


2020 Trope Bingo Card 1

by SaydriaWolfe



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, NCIS, Olympus Has Fallen (Movies), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (Mostly) Unconnected Shorts, Accidental Baby Acquisition, All the fix-it, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Background Pairings Abound But Author is Lazy, Different Pairings/Different Chapters, Different Tags/Different Chapters, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Non-Consensual Dimensional Travel, Rule 63, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27908056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaydriaWolfe/pseuds/SaydriaWolfe
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Derek Morgan, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Daisy Johnson/Penelope Garcia, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Nyota Uhura, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Mike Banning/Anthony DiNozzo, Morgan Stark/Nate Barton, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter, past-Jamie Lannister/Cersei Lanniser, past-Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	1. Note from the Author and Table of Contents

Hey there!  
  
I found the 2020 Trope Bingo on the Just Write Discord Server. The writing period was from June 1st to September 30th but I do what I want. The target word count is between one thousand and ten thousand words per prompt fill, which I managed.

I've taken two cards from the challenge and I have finally managed to black out the first one. I decided to cross post my blacked out card here becasue I want more people to know I have a [website](https://wolfetales.net/) and that is where I post everything I finish. What, did you expect me to lie?

I am in no way going through all the hoops to post pictures and stuff here. Sorry, not sorry. If you want to see the versions of these with art I or others have made and a couple casting collages to boot, you can find them [here](https://wolfetales.net/challenges/just-write-trope-bingo-2020/). Feel free to poke around a bit on my site. I know my AO3 works are kind of sparse but I have more on the site for you to enjoy.  
  
Have fun!  
SW

  
Table of Contents:  
1.) Note from the Author/Table of Contents  
2.) Square: Adulting, Fandom: Game of Thrones, Pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark  
3.) Square: Fix-it, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: N/A  
4.) Square: Amnesia, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: N/A  
5.) Square: Undercover, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: N/A - Sequel to #3  
6.) Square: Free Space - Time Travel, Fandom: Game of Thrones, Pairing: Past Jamie Lannister/Cersei Lannister  
7.) Square: Competence, Fandom: NCIS/Criminal Minds, Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Derek Morgan  
8.) Square: Found Family, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: Lady!Clint Barton/Steve Rogers  
9.) Square: Courtship, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: Lady!Clint Barton/Phil Coulson  
10.) Square: Best Life, Fandom: Game of Thrones, Pairing: past-Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister  
11.) Square: Enemies to Lovers, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: Lady!Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini  
12.) Square: Pretend Couple, Fandom: MCU/Criminal Minds, Pairing: Daisy Johnson/Penelope Garcia  
13.) Square: Pregnancy, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: pre-Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton  
14.) Square: Friends to Lovers, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom  
15.) Square: Accidental Child Acquisition, Fandom: Star Trek AOS, Pairing: Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Nyota Uhura  
16.) Square: Isolated/Trapped, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: Morgan Stark/Nate Barton  
17.) Square: What Happens in Vegas, Fandom: NCIS/Olympus Has Fallen, Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Mike Banning


	2. Square: Adulting, Fandom: Game of Thrones, Pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game of Thrones with some ASOIAF and Fan Theories to fill in the gaps

**Title** : Northern Justice  
 **Author** : Saydria Wolfe  
 **Fandom** : Game of Thrones  
 **Genre** : Fix-It, Adulting   
**Relationships** : Rhaegar Targaryen/Lyanna Stark  
 **Warning** : Timeline? What timeline?  
 **Author’s Notes** : Ned+Ashara=Jon, Rhaegar+Lyanna=Aegon...though that’s probably not what they are going to name him. I also subscribe to the theory that R/L hid in the crypts under Winterfell, pulling a Bael the Bard. **  
****Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Adulting  
 **Beta** : PN Ztivokreb  
 **Word Count** : 5,131  
 **Summary** : The pen truly is mightier than the sword. OR how a single letter got Westeros it’s groove back.

“Come on, Ned, a parlay? A parlay?”

Somedays Ned wondered why he loved Robert like a brother. The old gods knew he’d gotten them into enough trouble in their years together—and there was very little difference with this Rebellion.

Ned was avenging his father and older brother with the hope that doing so would find him his sister, Lyanna. Robert was just mad that King Aerys had demanded his head to go with Ned’s and that Lyanna had not wanted to marry him. And yet with how Robert went on about it all, one would think it was _his_ family that had been murdered with an impossible trial by combat.

“Yes, Robert, a parlay. Now will you shut up and wait to learn what’s going on with everyone else?”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t tell me first,” Robert grumbled.

Their horses picked their way to the slightly raised, dry area between two forks of the Trident where he had agreed to meet with the other commanders.

Ned stopped a respectable distance from the three Kingsguard representing the other side. Lords Tully, Arryn, and Baratheon stopped with him.

“I have received a letter from Rhaegar Targaryen the morning before this one,” Ned told the assembled group.

“As did we,” Ser Barristan Selmy spoke for himself and his sworn brothers.

Lords Tully and Arryn indicated that they had as well.

“None of you told me!” Robert objected loudly.

“In his letter, he admitted that he did not kidnap my sister Lyanna but that they stole away to get married—”

Robert roared like a wounded boar.

“—and that my sister had sent a letter to Riverrun to tell our father of those facts, after the marriage had been completed and consummated. Lord Tully, did Riverrun ever receive a letter from my sister for my father?”

“Riverrun did receive such a letter,” Lord Tully confirmed.

“So, all of this was for nothing,” Jon Arryn glared at Lord Hoster Tully.

Lord Tully did not meet his gaze.

“What about my claim?” Robert demanded. “My claim on the Iron Throne must still be answered.”

“If Prince Rhaegar proves to be an innocent man, the North will not stand against his claim on the Iron Throne,” Ned told Robert.

“Nor will the Vale.”

When Lord Hoster did not respond in the opening left for him, they all turned to look at him.

Lord Hoster waved them off. “Nor will the Riverlands.”

“Letters have been sent to the Loyalist lords ordering them to stand down,” Ser Barristan told them. “There is to be a Conclave. Once we have all returned to our homes and allowed our armies to retire, ravens will be sent out naming the location and attendees.”

“Very good.” Lord Arryn turned his horse. He paused to look at Robert. “Go home Rob, cool down. You have lost nothing that was ever actually yours.”

Robert glared at them all before turning his horse and spurring it on its way.

Ned nodded to the Kingsguard across from him and the lords at his side. “Until the Conclave.”

“Until the conclave,” Ser Barristan and Lord Arryn agreed.

Lord Tully was silent, the way Ned preferred him.

“I did not know I was wedding my daughter to a pair of cravens,” Lord Hoster muttered as they were about to go their separate ways.

“They did not marry cravens,” Lord Arryn countered. “They married just men. I understand if you’re confused by the difference, Hoster.”

Lord Hoster glared and abandoned them with haste.

Ned sighed and checked the sun’s position in the sky. “The day is half gone and we have much—too much—yet to do.”

“There is no one but us to do it,” Lord Jon clasped him on his shoulder. “Go home, Ned.”

-*-

Ned went home.

Lady Catelyn was there waiting for him, her stomach swollen with child.

His sister, too, was there waiting for him with Prince Rhaegar at her side and a child of her own in her belly. He cried to see her. He had feared he would never see her alive again, and yet she had been in Winterfell the entire time.

“I’m sorry, Ned,” Benjen blurted the second the two of them were alone with Rhaegar in father’s—Ned’s solar. “They were here the entire time. We weren’t getting ravens so we didn’t know what all was going on—”

“Your brother insisted we act as soon as we learned there was a senseless war going on,” Prince Rhaegar told him. “He kept Lyanna and I from going to Dorne to meet Elia…” Rhaegar trailed off with a sad frown.

“Princess Elia is dead,” he told his prince. “She and your children were murdered when Lord Lannister sacked King’s Landing.”

“Yes, we learned such just days after we would have gone south,” Rhaegar shook his head. “Lyanna is my only queen now, her son our heir.”

“I…am sorry for your loss.”

“And what of yours, Lord Stark? Last I knew, you had wed Ashara Dayne, and yet Catelyn Tully is living in residence as Lady of Winterfell with your child growing within her.”

Ned groaned. “It is a horrible tale and I do not know how to remedy it.”

“Well,” Rhaegar dropped comfortably down onto his father’s favorite chair. “Do not leave us in suspense.”

-*-

“Welcome to the Conclave of 283 AC,” Prince Rhaegar told the Lords gathered before him. He had called together each of his Lords Paramount, allowing them two attendant lords, and all of the relevant witnesses into the godswood of Winterfell. “The most grave matter before us is the matter of succession for the Iron Throne. But to reach that decision we must first clear up the issue of _Robert’s Rebellion_ , its causes and crimes committed over the course of events. As none can lie before a hearts tree, we will find the truth of this matter today.

“First, the accusation of kidnapping.

“Lyanna Stark,” he addressed his own wife neutrally. “Were you kidnapped by any person at any time within the last year.”

“No,” she answered simply. “I ran away before my father could formally betroth me to Robert Baratheon. I did not wish to marry him because of his inability to keep…himself to himself. He already had two bastards that I knew of and I refused to wed a man that could not be loyal.”

“And yet we are supposed to believe you wed a married man?” Lord Robert demanded.

“I fell in love with _both_ Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia at the Tourney of Harrenhal, _Robert_ . We spent a year planning our unions. As Rhaegar and Elia were already wed, he and I were to wed in the North to keep you from attempting to _assert your rights_ over a woman you weren’t even betrothed to. Elia and I were to wed in Dorne before the birth of my son,” Lyanna ran a hand over her distended belly. “That, unfortunately, is not to be.”

“Lord Stark, who told you that your sister had been kidnapped?”

“My brother Brandon had written me from King’s Landing while he and my father were waiting to speak to King Aerys. Brandon told me a witness—Petyr Baelish—had seen you, my prince, take my sister from Riverrun against her will.”

“And yet neither I nor Lyanna stopped within sight of Riverrun.” Rhaegar gestured at Ser Arthur and his best friend brought forth the so-called witness.

“Petyr Baelish, did you at any point see myself or Lyanna Stark at Riverrun before you reported her kidnapped to her father and brother?”

The boy struggled with his answer but the magic of the weirwood proved true and he admitted, “I did not.”

“Then how did you know to connect Lady Lyanna and myself?”

The boy struggled again and again he lost. “There was a letter.”

“Who was the letter from?”

“Winterfell, to Lord Stark.” The boy said in defeat.

“How did you come across this letter?”

“Maester Luwin received it and ordered me to take it to Lord Hoster.”

“And what did you do?”

“I read it,” Baelish struggled but then he admitted. “I read all of Lord Tully’s ravens.”

Lord Hoster flushed a furious scarlet.

“So, you knew your accusations against me were false when you laid them?” Rhaegar continued, ignoring Lord Tully’s ire.

“I did.”

“Then why did you lay them?”

“I wanted Brandon Stark to die. I knew he would rush to King’s Landing to demand his sister and I hoped the Mad King would kill him, leaving Catelyn available to me for marriage.”

“You engineered the deaths of a Lord Paramount and his heir entirely because you wanted to marry a Lord’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“I think that’s enough of that,” Rhaegar turned to his assembled Lords. “Clearly the boy murdered Lords Rickard and Brandon and used my father as his murder weapon. Are we in agreement?”

“Aye,” the lords of the North, the Reach, the Vale and Dorne all agreed.

“Take him to a cell, he will be sentenced when this matter is completed.” Rhaegar glanced at Lord Stark, the host of the conclave.

Stark nodded and gestured for one of his lords to take the boy. Baelish attempted to make a break for it but—unfortunately for him—the Lord that responded to Stark’s orders was Jeor Mormont. Mormont was a sensible man of the North that did not waste effort struggling with the boy. He just tapped him in the temple with the hilt of his dagger, knocking the boy senseless but not killing him.

“Lord Hoster,” Rhaegar addressed the man, turning to face the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. “Were you aware of the letter advising Lord Stark as to the true whereabouts of his daughter?”

“I was aware of a letter from Winterfell to Stark,” Hoster admitted.

“And did you read that letter from Winterfell to Stark?”

Hoster clearly did not want to admit it but in the end he nodded. “I did.”

“Why did you not stop your strong Northern allies from rushing to King’s Landing in what you knew was a fruitless endeavor?”

“I hated Steffon Baratheon and I hate his Robert more. Proud boastful fools, the both of them. I didn’t care where the Stark bitch was as long as he couldn’t have her.”

“Even though it cost your daughter her betrothed?”

“That was unfortunate,” Lord Hoster allowed. “But there are other Starks.”

Lady Catelyn gasped and stared at her father in wounded outrage.

“I think it has been made clear that not only am I an innocent man but that the crimes I have been accused of never happened,” Rhaegar addressed the entire group of lords. “They were merely the product of the lies and omissions of others. Are we agreed?”

Four of the six of the Lord’s Paramount present—for Greyjoy and his Iron Islands never responded to Conclave summonses or any other greenlander foolishness—was enough to grant him the majority.

“With no criminal charges standing against me and being the only son and heir of the previous king, I am the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, does anyone dispute this?”

Five of the six shook their heads. Baratheon did not do more than glare at him and it was a shame. A shame such a pig-headed fool was working to divide two houses that had stood together since Aegon’s Conquering.

“As the new legal king, it is my right to request you refresh your vows of loyalty now, before my coronation.”

Lord Eddard Stark of the North went to one knee and made his vow first. Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne went down next, kneeling for his crippled brother, Prince Doran, who sat on his tree root and gave his vow. Lord Mace Tyrell of the Reach went third with Lord Tywin of the Westerlands—who had knelt with him but let him speak first—went next. After a pointed hesitation, Lord Hoster Tully of the Riverlands gave his vow.

That left Robert Baratheon of the Stormlands standing stubbornly on his feet.

“Lord Baratheon?”

“My claim to the throne must be answered,” Robert growled. “I demand trial by combat!”

Robert’s younger brother Stannis thumped Robert on the shoulder. “You cannot demand trial by combat of a man that has already been cleared. Or of a man that never committed crimes in the first place! Your claim is invalid. Let it go.”

“No,” Robert shook his brother off. “He took my woman, now he’s taking my throne, and I will sink my hammer into his chest! See what he takes then!”

“I was never your woman, Robert,” Lyanna said sharply, supporting their son with a hand on her belly as she always did when she was stressed. “Do not think for one moment that I ever loved you. You are a drinking, whoring, fighting fool and I have no time for you. Had Rhaegar not _rescued_ me, I would have fled to Essos rather than marry you!

“Had that failed, I would have given you your son as my lord father ordered and then _cut off your bollocks_ the first time one of your bastards was born thereafter! I would have left you to die in our marriage bed and been executed for it with a smile on my face.

“Never for a moment were we going to be a happily-ever-after, no matter what you have yourself convinced of. Your life would have been over the moment you put a child in my belly and do not ever forget it.”

For a moment Robert wavered. Then his face hardened. “I demand trial by combat. I have been wronged. It’s my right.”

“Your hurt feelings are not something you can fight someone over, Robert,” Lord Arryn tried. “Let it go.”

“No.”

“Lord Stannis, do you support your brother in his rebellion?” Rhaegar asked the younger brother.

Stannis refused to look at any of them. “I cannot consider myself a just man if I do, my king.”

“Very well,” Rhaegar caught his eye and gave the lad a nod in the hope it would bolster him. “Robert Baratheon, by your own words and deeds you are hereby convicted of treason against the King of the Seven Kingdoms. You are hereby stripped of all lands and titles and sentenced to death at dawn. Lord Stark?”

Ned gave his brother in all but blood a sad look and shook his head. “Umbers, take him.”

Several of the largest men Rhaegar had ever seen surrounded Robert Baratheon. The large former Stormland lord was dwarfed by their sheer physical size as they escorted him from the godswood.

“Lord Stannis?”

Stannis immediately took a knee and swore the loyalty of the Stormlands to Rhaegar specifically and the Iron Throne in general.

“The Stormlands are thanked for their loyalty and pardoned for all actions taken over the course of _Robert’s Rebellion_.”

“Thank you, my king.” Stannis stood.

Rhaegar turned to his goodbrother. “The North is thanked for it’s loyalty and pardoned for all actions taken over the course of Robert’s Rebellion.”

Ned stood, “Thank you, my king.”

“Lord Arryn, the Vale of Arryn is thanked for it’s loyalty and pardoned for all actions taken over the course of Robert’s Rebellion.”

“Thank you, my king,” Lord Arryn stood.

“Dorne and the Reach are thanked for their loyalty now and throughout Robert’s Rebellion and pardoned for any actions taken over the course of Robert’s Rebellion. Though, Lord Mace, reparations to the people your forces came near to starving would not go amiss.”

“Thank you, my king,” Doran said as Oberyn stood.

Lord Mace nodded as he regained his feet. “Of course, my king.”

“Lord Tywin,” Rhaegar turned to his one-time ally. The man that had practically raised him. A man he had looked up to for so long. “Tell me, what was the purpose for your _murder_ of my wife and children?”

Lord Tywin’s mouth worked for several moments before words managed to come out. “I was clearing the board so that whoever took the crown once the rebellion was over would have to marry my daughter to keep it and liberate King’s Landing from my forces.”

“So, you sacked King’s Landing, had my wife murdered and raped, and murdered my children to put your grandchildren on the throne?”

“Yes.”

“Lord Tywin you are hereby convicted of murder and treason. You, Ser Illyn Payne, and Ser Gregor Clegane are sentenced to death. The sentence will be carried out at dawn.”

Lord Stark didn’t wait for his signal this time. He specifically ordered Mormont and his son to see Lord Tywin to a cell.

“Ser Kevan?” Rhaegar called once Tywin had quit the room with what was left of his dignity.

“Yes, my king?”

“Do you understand why that was necessary?”

“Yes, my king.”

“Do you hold any grudges or further plans to usurp the throne?”

“No, my king.”

“Swear your oath for the Westerlands.”

Ser Kevan went down on one knee and swore loyalty to Rhaegar and the throne.

“I hereby name you regent of the Westerlands for Lord Tyrion Lannister, Ser Kevan. You will send Lord Tyrion here to Winterfell to foster until his sixteenth birthday at which point he will return to the Westerlands to train directly under you until he is eighteen at which time he will ascend to Lord Paramount. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my king. I will have Lord Tyrion and a reasonably sized retinue on the next boat North the day I have returned to the Rock.

“What of Cersei, my king?”

“She will be married to a suitable lord far from King’s Landing. I do not want to set eyes on Tywin’s daughter so long as I live.”

“Of course, my king. Did you…have a particular lord…?”

“My king, if I may,” Lord Jon Arryn spoke up.

“Yes, Lord Arryn?”

“Before this meeting, I received a raven informing me that Lady Lyssa lost our child and threw herself through the Moon Door leaving me with neither wife nor heir.”

“Very well, Lord Arryn. Ser Kevan, the crown hereby betroths Lady Cersei Lannister to Lord Jon Arryn.”

“Very good, my king. Thank you.”

“Of course.” This brought them to Lord Tully. “Lord Tully, by your willful inactions, a rebellion against the throne was instigated. I hold you personally responsible for every life lost over the course of this pointless rebellion. Does anyone speak in his defense?”

None of the other lords did.

“Further, I find you directly responsible—with Petyr Baelish—for the deaths of Lord Rickard Stark and his heir Brandon Stark. Does anyone speak in his defense?”

If crickets were allowed in a godswood, they would be audible.

“Further, knowing Robert’s Rebellion was your doing, you acted in bad faith with Lord Eddard of the North. Lady Ashara?”

Lady Ashara Dayne stepped out from the veil of the trees with Lord Eddard’s first born in her arms.

“You knew Lord Eddard was already married to Lady Ashara and forced him to marry your daughter in order to gain the resources to save Robert Baratheon from circumstances we’ve already established you were responsible for making. As Lord Stark is not a Targaryen, he cannot legally have two wives. Also, marriages held at sword point or under other coercion are not legally binding within the Seven Kingdoms.

“Therefore, seeing as Lady Ashara was already Lord Eddard’s wife as was agreed between their fathers, I declare that your daughter is _not_ Lord Stark’s wife and your grandson is legally a bastard.”

Lady Catelyn gasped in horror and clutched her newborn son Robb to her chest.

“Lord Stark, what recompense do you demand of Lord Tully for his personal crimes against you and your House?”

“Ashara?” Lord Ned asked softly.

“She will leave the North and never return,” Lady Ashara answered immediately. “And she will leave her son with us as she deserves to keep no part of _my_ husband.”

Rhaegar took a moment to wonder just how heinously Lady Catelyn must have acted in the three days Lady Ashara had been in Winterfell—Ashara, who was almost as famous for her patience as she was for her beauty—to get such a response.

“Very well,” he agreed. “Lady Catelyn?”

Lady Ashara handed little Jon to his father and stood at Lord Stark’s side as Lady Catelyn reluctantly released her son into Ashara’s care. Lady Catelyn started sobbing as the other woman comforted her son.

“Go back to your father,” Lady Ashara ordered and, to Rhaegar’s unending surprise, Lady Catelyn obeyed.

“Now, Lord Hoster, for your treason and bad faith with your allies, you are stripped of your lands and titles and sentenced to death at dawn. Further, your children are stripped of all rights of inheritance to Riverrun and the Riverlands. Ser Brynden?”

Brynden “Blackfish” Tully took a knee just far enough from his brother to make it clear that while they were from the same family, they did not stand together. “My king, may I say that I was aware that my brother forced Lord Stark to marry my niece—”

“Shut up, Brynden,” Lord Hoster interrupted.

“Lord Hoster you will hold your tongue and bear witness to the fullness of your House’s punishment or I will have your tongue cut out. Do you understand?” Rhaegar glared at his former Lord Paramount.

Lord Hoster wisely did not respond.

“As I was saying, Your Grace, I was aware that my brother forced Lord Stark to marry my niece Catelyn despite already being married. When I realized that I could not make him see sense, I decided to request permission from Lord Arryn to serve as my niece Lyssa’s guard in the Vale once the rebellion was over, until Hoster’s death.

“I had no idea he was so responsible for that rebellion, Your Grace. I swear it.”

Rhaegar…believed him. “So, you understand why your brother’s death is necessary to the peace of the Realm?”

“I do, my king.”

“And do you hold any grudges or further plans to usurp the throne?”

“I don’t even want Riverrun—by which I mean no, my king.”

“Very well. Swear your oath for the Riverlands.”

Ser Brynden went down on one knee and swore loyalty to Rhaegar and the throne.

“I hereby name you regent of the Riverlands for Lord Robb Stark, Ser Brynden. As will Lord Tyrion, Lord Robb will remain in Winterfell to be raised by his father until his sixteenth birthday at which point he will go to the Riverlands to train directly under you until his eighteenth birthday, at which time he will ascend to Lord Paramount. Due to Lord Hoster’s faithlessness and treason, House Tully no longer stands as a Great House of Westeros. Riverrun and the Riverlands will go to the new cadet branch of House Stark your great nephew Robb will establish, House Stark of the Riverlands. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my king. I cannot say it is not a just punishment, but what of my nephew, Edmure? He is only nine.”

“He will go to the Citadel, the Faith, or the Wall—whichever is his preference. This is not a punishment, but I cannot allow the seeds to a future civil war within the Riverlands to be planted. Lord Tully’s children must release all claim to the Riverlands beyond any questioning or reclaiming.”

“I agree. And my niece Catelyn?”

“Lady Catelyn is not a bad person,” Lord Stark defended his former wife with a glance toward his _actual_ wife who rolled her eyes. “She is a highborn lady in breeding and training. She has served admirably as Lady of Winterfell. She…simply has southron ways that have no place in the North and has been most displeased with my refusal to build her a sept within Winterfell itself.”

Rhaegar considered that. “Ser Brynden, you will find her a suitable match. _Outside_ of the Riverlands, mind you. I will not tolerate her children starting a civil war in the Riverlands either.”

Lord Stannis cleared his throat.

“Yes, Lord Stannis?”

“With your permission, my king, I would offer myself for Lady Catelyn’s hand. Her situation is no fault of her own but that of her father, though many will still hold her deflowered state against her. Even a lady of her caliber will have a hard time finding a husband after bearing a son for another lord. I take Lord Robb’s health as a promise she can bear strong sons for me. As well, Storm’s End has a sept and worship of the Seven is common in the Stormlands preventing the conflict she has had with Winterfell.”

Rhaegar couldn’t see a downside, unless, “And you will not raise your children with designs upon the Riverlands?”

“I will not,” Lord Stannis promised. “Nor will I allow Lady Catelyn to do so.”

“Ser Brynden?” Rhaegar asked the head of the woman’s House.

Ser Brynden shot Lady Catelyn a look. Tears were still leaking down her face at the loss of her son, but she nodded easily enough. Lord Hoster was sitting on his tree roots, going red with his effort to remain silent.

“I agree,” Ser Brynden nodded. “When we return to the Riverlands, Lord Stannis and I can discuss terms. We will include the lack of her or her children’s claim to Riverrun in the contract.”

“Very well.” Rhaegar turned to Ned and nodded. Again Ned signaled to his waiting lords to see Tully to Winterfell’s cells.

Lannister was punished, Tully was punished, Stark was rewarded—oh, right.

“I, King Rhaegar I of House Targaryen, hereby declare that Prince Doran of Dorne is the Warden of the South, Lord Mace Tyrell is the Warden of the West, Lord Jon Arryn is the Warden of the East, and Lord Eddard Stark is the Warden of the North of Westeros.

“My Lords, is there any further business before us?”

Ned shook his head and the rest of his Lords and Regents followed his lead.

“Then we have one last order of Crown business and this assembly will be dismissed. Kingsguard, step forward.”

All seven of the most trusted knights in the Realm moved forward in step and took one knee together.

“You were the Kingsguard of my father, King Aerys II. As you may not be aware your vows must be remade upon the choosing of a new king. I know well what my father has put you through as you served him. I will hold no ill will to any of you that choose not to re-swear.”

And he wouldn’t, he really wouldn’t. Serving his father had to be torture for any knight that took their vows seriously.

Still, he was quite relieved when none of them stood to signal their decision to leave his guard.

“Ser Jaime.”

The youngest member of his Kingsguard thumped his chest with a gauntleted fist in salute, “My king.”

“You killed my father, the man you were sworn to protect.”

“Yes, my king.”

“Why?”

Ser Jaime’s jaw shook briefly before he took a deep breath and answered. “King Aerys and his Hand, the alchemist Wisdom Rossart, have vast supplies of wildfire hidden beneath the entirety of King’s Landing and the Red Keep. When they came to the realization that my father had come to sack King’s Landing and not protect them, King Aerys gave the order to _burn them all_. To ignite all of the caches of wildfire.

“I had to choose between keeping my oath—dying, allowing my father to die, and allowing over half a million people to die a horrible death—or breaking my oath.

“I broke my oath,” Ser Jaime found his inner steel. He straightened his back and raised his chin not with pride but with the absence of shame. “And I contend it was the right choice for me to make for the Realm.”

Rhaegar…couldn’t disagree.

“I agree,” he eventually admitted. “You saved the Realm from an immeasurable, unnecessary loss—but I cannot allow the murder of my father to go unpunished.”

“Yes, my king.”

“Your punishment is to swear yourself to be your brother, Lord Tyrion’s, personal sword and shield. You will hold no lands and take no wives—” The boy was fifteen, if he wasn’t going to be a Kingsguard there was no reason to keep him from…enjoying being a man. “—You will provide your lord-brother faithful service and honest council from this day until your last day.”

Ser Jaime blinked at him like he wasn’t quite sure what he had heard. “My King?”

“Yes?”

“I…I’m still a knight? You’re not…sending me to the Wall? Or taking my head?”

“You are still a knight of the Realm,” Rhaegar promised. “You’re not going to the Wall unless you choose to and I am not taking your head. Do you understand your punishment?”

Ser Jaime grinned. “To be a knight in my brother’s household and not a lord—to serve and protect him for the rest of my life.”

“Yes, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime laughed in relief, flushed in embarrassment and stood. “I will serve my punishment with honor, my king.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rhaegar couldn’t help but smile at the boy. His joy in his _punishment_ was infectious. “Now, I’m going to need that cloak from you.”

“Of course, your grace.” Ser Jaime took the white cloak off of his own shoulders, laid it neatly across both of his hands and offered it to Rheagar. He took the white cloak of a former Kingsguard and watched the boy join his Uncle’s position representing the Westerlands.

Rhaegar handed Jaime’s cloak to Lyanna who took it with a small smile. He had let his father’s murderer go and was glad of it for that smile.

“Ser Arthur?”

His very best friend, Ser Arthur Dayne stood. “My king?”

“Your brother’s heiress has married my Warden of the North and become the Lady of Winterfell. Your father’s Keep is in need of a Lord.”

“Yes, my king.”

“We both know allowing Starfall to fall into the hands of your cousin, Ser Gerold, would be a mistake.”

“He should never have access to a relic like Dawn, my king. We are agreed.”

“I ask that you sacrifice your place on my Kingsguard and take your brother’s place as Lord of Starfall. Do you agree?”

Ser Arthur closed his eyes for several moments but in the end he nodded. “I do, your grace.”

“Thank you,” Rhaegar said softly as Arthur passed him his beloved white cloak. “And I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I will be when you make me your Hand,” Lord Arthur sassed and Rhaegar laughed.

He’d give the man a year to settle into his new role as lord, get married, and get an heir in the offing…probably.

He turned to the five Kingsguard that were still kneeling and took their vows individually. They had a lot of work to do but they would push through and it looked like maybe, just maybe, it would all be alright.


	3. Square: Fix-it, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: N/A

**Title** : The Duke of Hogwarts   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : Harry Potter   
**Genre** : Fix-it, Time-Travel   
**Relationships** : n/a   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Fix-it   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 5,130   
**Summary** : There hasn’t been a Duke of Hogwarts in more than three hundred years. James had never been more surprised than when his father informed Sirius and himself that they were going to the bank to meet him.

“What?” James asked again. The answer his father had given Sirius just hadn’t made sense.

“There is a Duke of Hogwarts,” his father Charlus repeated with more amusement than James thought was strictly necessary. “This is confidential for now, but his name is Harry Potter and he has called us to Gringotts for a meeting.”

“Us?” James asked.

“Us,” his father nodded. “You, Sirius, and myself.”

James glanced at Sirius and found him waiting for his reaction. There wasn’t any way for him to react, really. Hogwarts was the oldest magical institution in Britain. The Duke of Hogwarts was basically their  _ king _ from a magical perspective and no one could fight with that. Especially no one that was currently attending or had at some point attended Hogwarts.

“When do we leave?” he asked.

“As soon as you are both dressed appropriately,” Charlus said and James and Sirius scrambled for the door.

“Treat this like a Wizengamot meeting, lads,” his father warned, “and you’re on trial for murder.”

So … as formal and impressive as they could manage, James thought through his daze.

They rushed back to James’s room and dressed quickly. Both Remus and Peter had questions but neither James nor Sirius could answer them. The Duke would make his own announcements regarding his existence, House Potter could not risk upsetting any plans the man might have in that regard. 

No House could ever survive the Duke’s wrath if they didn’t.

Though...if the man was a Potter — his name  _ was _ Harry Potter — did that make  _ him _ a member of House Potter? And if he was, did that make him the lord in place of James’s father or the heir in place of James? He had no idea what any of this meant but there was only one way, one place, for him to find out and that was at the bank.

Charlus provided a portkey to get them to the Bank. They landed inside the bank proper, in the portkey landing area. The state of James’s stomach made him think they were probably in at least the Paris Branch.

All landing sites in every branch of Gringotts were identical, so there were no physical signs for him to be sure.

The door to the landing area opened and a thick, powerful goblin stepped through. Warrior class, James thought.

“Stonefist?” his father asked politely.

“Indeed,” the goblin agreed gravely. “My orders are to search you for security purposes before I allow you to see the Duke. You are each allowed one magical focus, one emergency portkey, and your House rings. All other magical items will be confiscated and secured until you are released from the Duke’s presence.”

His father gave up his wand but kept his staff and two portkeys before he allowed himself to be magically searched.

Neither James nor Sirius had a staff yet. The process of building one was incredibly personal for a human and could not truly be started until after their first magical maturation. Most magical humans didn’t see that before their twenty-first birthday, which was five years away for him and Sirius.

He had already started collecting magical feathers in the hope that some of them could be used for his core when he was old enough, though.

Still the goblin was diligent and searched them.

Sirius didn’t even have a House ring, though he kept his chin high and his lips stiff on the matter.

They were escorted down the hall toward the secure meeting rooms the bank rented out for mind bogglingly large hourly rates. Waiting before the door to the one at the end — the most secure of the rooms — was Lord Arcturus Black.

“Wait here,” Stonefist instructed as he approached the secure door. He laid his hand on the mithril door and pulsed his magic aura against it — a more secure version of knocking. The door opened to him, but the interior was obscured by the heavy security active within the room.

“Sirius,” Lord Arcturus called gently in greeting.

Sirius’s back stiffened. “ … Grandfather?”

“Come now, my boy, I have something for you.” Lord Arcturus pulled out a padded leather ring box.

Hurt and confusion flashed over Sirius’s face, but he took the box regardless. When he opened it, James saw it contained the unmistakable Heir Ring of House Black. “But,” Sirius rolled his lips into his mouth and dragged them through his teeth — a sure sign he was upset. “But Mother and Father disowned me.”

“They don’t have the power to disown you,” Lord Arcturus said tartly. “You outrank them within the family magic and have since you were  _ born _ .”

“But … I ran away.”

“And I can’t blame you,” Lord Arcturus admitted. “After Earl Potter advised me that he would be hosting you for the foreseeable future — as was only right and proper — I investigated the circumstances you had fled. I sentenced your parents to five years of house arrest with no visitors and no owls for their transgressions against you.

“I would have disowned your parents immediately and claimed you myself, but I did not think you would want Regulus to be removed from House Black as well. I will correct that after this meeting, if I was wrong.”

“No,” Sirius shook his head because he had always been the most Hufflepuff person in House Black. Him and his cousin Bellatrix, strangely enough. “But perhaps we could remove him from their influence?”

“Save him from himself,” Lord Arcturus agreed. “Perhaps it is time for a Black to once again attend Beauxbatons.”

“It has been a generation or two.”

Lord Arcturus nodded. “It will be done.”

Magic settled on Lord Black like it was a vow and James had to swallow. He hoped, for all House Black, that they could salvage Sirius’s little brother. Sirius deserved to have at least one member of his immediate family that he could trust—both now and when he eventually became their lord.

The door opened under the hand of a dark haired, dark eyed young man James had never seen before. He had a strong brow, nose, and shoulders. James thought he might be Slavic or Turkic. Clearly from the continent.

“You will enter individually,” he said in a thick accent. It sounded rather musical to James. “Lords, then heirs. Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw.”

He held the door open and James’s father stepped through it with the sort of easy confidence James tried really hard to embody. He rarely felt like he succeeded, especially when Lily was around.

“Ravenclaw?” Sirius asked in surprise.

“What color are ravens, Sirius?” his best friend’s grandfather asked.

“We’re from a bastard line then?” Sirius guessed.

“The mainline died out,” Lord Arcturus answered. “Lady Rowena’s heirs all died before she did, leaving her title to an uncle that only had one daughter — and yes, she was illegitimate. She removed the gender requirement for holding the title while she was the Head of House Ravenclaw.”

“Are all bastard lines named for colors?” James asked.

Lord Arcturus blinked at him and took a moment before answering. “Generally, yes. Muggle ways complicate things of course but in magical noble houses, bastard lines are colors associated with their sigil animal. Black for Ravenclaw. Brown for Gryffindor. Green for Slytherin, though that line gained nobility of their own accord over a hundred years ago now and added  _ grass _ to their name.”

“The place snakes live,” James nodded. It made sense. Mostly. In a magical sort of way.

“Yes,” Lord Arcturus confirmed.

“If we’re Ravenclaws, what’s with the obsession with Slytherin?” Sirius asked. “Mother and Father are obsessed with Slytherin. So is most of the family.”

“You will not like my answer,” Lord Arcturus warned.

“Tell us any way,” Sirius said, recklessly proving his sorting true.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Lord Arcturus said simply. “The sorting changed dramatically after he took over as headmaster. Because he wanted all of his political enemies in one place, I believe.

“Months before your parents were born his voting bloc passed a law to  _ simplify _ magical peerage so that our titles matched out names.”

“That’s why you’re Lord of Black, not Lord of Ravenclaw,” Sirius nodded.

“Supposedly it was a measure taken to help muggleborns acclimate to magical society, though I fail to see how such a change did anything but deny purebloods their true heritage unless they are exceedingly, taxingly diligent.”

The door to the secure chamber opened and Duke Potter’s man gestured for Lord Arcturus to enter. Lord Arcturus nodded to them and moved away gracefully.

“You think he’s right?” Sirius asked without looking away from the closed door.

“Everyone in Slytherin  _ is _ a political enemy of Albus Dumbledore,” James offered. “Not all from families that rival his voting bloc — some of them are neutral — but none of their families have ever sided with him.”

“Gryffindor are his allies,” Sirius said.

“And he lets us get away with too much,” James frowned at the thought. If Dumbledore was deliberately dividing  _ his _ side from  _ their _ side … and supporting conflict between the two sides, that was a problem.

One that had every chance of following them even after they left Hogwarts.

Honestly, James knew the Marauders should have been expelled at least three times since the time they formed and started their pranking, but Dumbledore had always stood between them and those consequences. He had never been anything but grateful for it … grateful and arrogant and escalating because he knew he was safe.

Lord Arcturus’s words made that safety feel like an ugly, unacceptable thing.

“I wonder if I can get re-Sorted,” Sirius mused.

James blinked in surprise. “Ravenclaw?”

“If I’m their heir, it’s inappropriate for me to be in a different House.” Sirius sent him a look that James knew well how to interpret.

Sirius was waiting for him to say something horrible and mean.

“We’ll still have classes together,” James offered with a smile and Sirius’s shoulders relaxed. “NEWT-level Runes will be too small for multiple classes next year. It always is. And I was thinking about adding Magical Theory.”

“Evans is planning to take Magical Theory,” Sirius offered, then grinned when James blushed. “We could do Ritual Magic, too.”

“Werewolves can’t take Ritual Magic,” James reminded his best friend. “And Peter doesn’t have the grades for it.”

“I … don’t think we can let them be part of this decision, James,” Sirius admitted. “The long-term benefits of taking the class outweigh any discomfort they might feel about not attending with us or being  _ left behind _ .

James blinked, that was not the Sirius he had known for so long. That was … almost wise. Sirius had never let wisdom hold more precedence over friendship.

“That’s your heir ring talking,” James guessed.

Sirius shrugged. “I’m not wrong. And Hogwarts wards need updating. Only Lords and Heirs to the Houses can do that. We need to take the class to add Warding to our future education plans.”

“You’re right,” James admitted. “I just hate their disappointment.”

Sirius barely had time to shrug before the door opened again and the Duke’s man nodded to him. James squeezed Sirius’s shoulder and followed the man through the door.

There was a pentagon of tables in the room. His father was sitting alone at one that had a second chair he thought was probably for him. There was an empty table, then Lord Arcturus with an empty chair for Sirius, and another empty table. The fifth table was on a platform, raised a few inches higher than the others. 

One young man, approximately his age, sat alone in the center of the high table.

He had the rune of victory carved in his forehead which made James a little sick to think about but other than that he looked … like he imagined his and Lily’s son would look. James blushed and corrected himself—he looked like the son they might have if he ever got her to give him the time of day.

Maybe … maybe Sirius was right. They should take their education and futures more seriously. Maybe that would make Lily Evans look at him like he was more than an expired potion ingredient.

“My heir, your Grace,” his father said as he joined him at his table. “His name is James.”

“Greetings, James of House Gryffindor,” the Duke inclined his head and James gave him a short bow. “Go ahead and bring in the other heir, Viktor. I want everyone in place and warded before Hermione and Fleur return from their errands.”

“As you will, your Grace,” Viktor clicked his heels and gave a short bow.

He was  _ definitely _ from the continent. James had only seen Drumstrang attendees make such a gesture.

Sirius was soon introduced and seated beside his grandfather.

“The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins have arrived, your Grace. I cannot allow the number of men Slytherin has brought within the chamber.”

Duke Potter frowned. “How many?”

“Six,” Viktor answered. “All powerful and … ”

“Marked?” the Duke asked, and James had to swallow back a hiss.

He had  _ heard _ of the blood terrorist calling himself  _ Lord Voldemort _ and his growing number of followers — said to be calling themselves Death Eaters. Supposedly they all carried Lord Voldemort’s Mark on their bodies and in their magic which had horrific implications. But he had never thought the man might actually be a lord. Especially not the one true Lord of House Slytherin.

“Yes, your Grace,” Viktor agreed.

Duke Potter sat back and steepled his fingers as he considered that. “Any blood relations?”

“Within the group? Yes. The brothers Rodolphus and Rastaban Lestrange. To the Lord? Not one, your Grace.”

“Only the Lord and their blood heir are allowed in this room. Those are the terms I set with High Chieftain Ragnok and those are the terms all the other Lords have adhered to. Riddle can adhere to them or he can leave, and I will raise someone else into the Slytherin Seat on my council.”

James nearly choked and the name  _ Riddle _ . 

Tom Riddle was a name he was aware of. Professor Slughorn liked to brag about him at Slug Club. He had been a brilliant student. A Head Boy that had performed extraordinary but unspecified services to the school.

James glanced over to catch Sirius’s eye but his brother in all but blood was having a whispered conversation with his grandfather.

James wondered if they were discussing the so-called Lord Voldemort or Bellatrix’s obsession with him. Or maybe they were discussing Bellatrix’s recent betrothal to Rodophus Lestrange, who was apparently a marked follower of the blood-obsessed bastard. Magic knew any one of those subjects needed a discussion or three.

“Give him time to think about it and bring in the Hufflepuffs first.”

“Of course, your Grace,” Viktor clicked his heels and bowed again as he left to do the duke’s bidding.

Viktor returned with Head Auror Amelia Bones and her younger brother Edgar.

“Lord Edgar,” the Duke greeted.

“Duke Potter,” Edgar bowed.

“You and I both know the heir your family magic picked when your father died and yet you wear the Hufflepuff House ring. Why?”

Lord Edgar swallowed hard and glanced at his older sister.

Head Auror Bones met his gaze evenly but did not outwardly react.

“My father made me promise him that I would take up his place as Head of the Family. He demanded it on his deathbed, your Grace I could not deny him.”

“You’re weak,” Duke Potter announced, and James winced. Edgar flinched with shame. “Family magic takes precedence over the desires of individuals within the family. To do otherwise will damage your family magic permanently — possibly killing it — within the year. Is that what you want?”

“I made a promise,” Edgar reminded Potter.

“A mundane promise or a Magical Vow?” Lord Arcturus asked.

Lord Edgar swallowed and flicked a glance at Lord Arcturus. “A promise.”

“Then you know what you have to do,” Lord Arcturus said. “Where is your Hufflepuff spirit? And why are you loyal to one man over the welfare of your entire family?”

“I’m sorry, Amy,” Lord Edgar said almost too softly to be heard.

“You always are.”

Lord Edgar closed his eyes in pain at his sister’s words. He kept them closed as he pulled the Lord Ring off of his finger and held it to his sister.

Amelia Bones stared at her brother’s braced, eyes-closed form for a long time before she nodded and took the ring. “I, Amelia Susan Bones, swear to serve my family magic with honor and justice from this day to my last day. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” Duke Potter echoed. “Welcome to my Council, Lady Bones. Please take your seat.” The Duke gestured to the empty table at his father’s right.

Lady Bones bowed to the Duke and took her assigned chair. The heir chair at her table was still empty.

“Will you declare an heir?” Duke Potter asked. “Your brother, perhaps?”

“No, my family magic will never accept him since he tried to take the head position wrongfully. It will be our brother Richard until one of us has a daughter.”

“Good,” Duke Potter nodded, “this country needs more matrilineal houses … or  _ any  _ matrilineal houses.”

“House Greengrass is matrilineal,” Lord Arcturus offered.

Duke Potter made noise of interest. “Their head of house?”

“Lady Regina Greengrass.”

James knew Lady Regina was on the edges of Lord Arcturus’s voting bloc in the Wizengamot. She voted with them more often than not but had no formal alliances with any of the Houses within the bloc. He wondered if championing her inclusion on the Duke’s Council was a courting gesture for her entry into the Black voting bloc … but it couldn’t be. 

There was no guarantee the Wizengamot would still exist or that voting blocs would even matter once Duke Potter took his rightful place in Britain.

“Thank you, Lord Arcturus.

“Mr. Bones, you are dismissed. I expect you to keep the contents of this meeting you have seen so far utterly secret until I have announced myself in Britain.”

“Of course, your Grace.” Edgar bowed to the Duke and left the room.

“Stonefist?”

“Duke Potter?” The goblin stepped forward.

“Summon Mr. Richard Bones and Lady Regina Greengrass and her heir to this meeting, if you would.”

“As you will,” the goblin nodded sharply and left.

“Viktor, Slytherin, please.”

Viktor returned moments after the command was given with a man that looked about Lord Arcturus’s age even though James knew he had to be almost thirty years younger. There was a black rage on his face and in his aura that made James very uncomfortable.

“Tom Riddle,” Duke Potter greeted.

The newcomer hissed. “I am Lord Voldemort.”

“There is no House of Voldemort,” Duke Potter returned evenly, “and I will not declare one.

“You were born Thomas Marvolo Riddle. You were named for your muggle father and squib mother’s squib father. The only alternative to Riddle available to you is Gaunt, but I warn you against assuming that name. The Goblin Horde has a blood feud with House Gaunt thanks to your five-times-great grandfather.”

Meaning the blood terrorist was a.) not a pureblood, b.) not a lord at all actually, and c.) would lose his head before he left the bank if he took any name but that of his muggle father.

Tom Riddle glared but didn’t say anything as he moved to take a seat at the Slytherin table not far to the right of Sirius.

“I didn’t say you could sit,” Duke Potter said sharply.

Riddle hissed and released the chair like he had been burned.

“Do you honestly think I cannot see the crimes you have committed in your magic?” Duke Potter asked. “Kinslaying? Of your maternal and paternal families. Framing your mother’s brother for your crimes? And you’ve severed your soul. More than once.

“Your continued existence is a crime against magic, Riddle. I will not have you on my Council.”

“You cannot deny me my birth right!” Riddle declared in a fury.

“I can deny you anything I want to, Riddle, including your life,” Duke Potter returned.

“I challenge you!” Riddle declared and pulled his wand. “I will kill you and take your place as Duke of Hogwarts! I will rule the magical world forever! It is my destiny.”

James blood froze even as his mind panicked. What madness was this?

“Alright,” Duke Potter said evenly. He stood and straightened his waist coat. “I accept your challenge.”

“Avada—!”

“ _ Die _ ,” Duke Harry hissed.

_ Actually _ hissed. The man was a parselmouth, just like him.

Tom Riddle’s wand dropped from his hand as he clutched his chest. He choked up a bit of blood and fell backwards.

“Is he dead?” James couldn’t help but ask as a pair of goblins entered the room to collect the body and a third cleaned up the mess Riddle left behind.

Duke Potter sent him an amused look and held out his hand. Tom Riddle’s wand flew into it. “For now. He created anchors when he severed his soul so, theoretically, he could come back but he’ll have to kill most of his marked followers to do it. Assuming he knows  _ how  _ to do it.”

“Would he make soul anchors without knowing how to use them?”

“Do you have any idea how many magicals set themselves on a path without knowing where it will turn out or how to fully utilize it every day?” Duke Potter snickered, showing his youth for the first time since James had set eyes on him. 

James conceded that that was a good point. Magic knew he had done such with every single prank he had pulled at Hogwarts.

He had never stopped to think about how strange it was that no one had ever put a stop to their shenanigans. Or what the long-term consequences of them could be. Not before two well-placed words from Sirius’s grandfather had given everything a new, frightening sort of context.

“My lord, Lady Regina and her niece Celeste as well as Mr. Richard Bones have all arrived.”

“Thank you, Viktor. Let’s maintain the pattern we started with. Stonefist, if you would send out the notices I wrote before the meeting and begin summoning your next list?”

“Of course, your Grace,” both males said and left the room immediately.

“You seem to have this all planned out,” his father offered.

“I learned the cost of recklessness years ago, Lord Potter,” the Duke told him. “And my sister in magic would never allow me to forget it.”

His father gave the duke a small smile and a nod.

“Lady Regina Greengrass,” Viktor announced as he led a beautiful woman into the room.

“My lady,” Duke Potter tipped his head.

“My lord,” Lady Regina gave him a curtsy. “How may the House of Greengrass serve the Duke of Hogwarts?”

“The Slytherin Seat on my Council is empty,” he gestured to the only empty table. “And you have the only remaining blood claim to the House of Slytherin.”

“It would be my honor to serve you and the Realm in this way, your Grace.”

“Welcome to the Council, Lady Greengrass.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Lady Regina nodded to each of the other lords in turn as she took her seat.

The chamber was quickly filled out with Richard Bones joining his sister, Lady Amelia’s table, and Celeste Greengrass joining her aunt, Lady Regina’s table.

James actually knew Celeste. She was a year behind him and Sirius at school. Slytherin through and through but quiet. He was fairly certain they had never pranked her directly but that didn’t mean she hadn’t gotten caught in any of their snake traps. 

He made a mental note to apologize in the event they had pranked her, just to be safe. The peace of the future Council was important. He could not ruin it and survive.

Two women came in unannounced not long after the lower tables were filled. One smiled and greeted the Duke with a kiss on the cheek before taking the heir seat at his table. The other — a half-veela — gave the Duke a respectful bow and stood at the other girl’s right. Viktor moved to mirror her, standing at Duke Potter’s left.

“Now that the council is assembled, we have a lot of work to do,” Duke Potter said. “Britain is on the brink of a new blood war. In fact, it never moved on from the last blood war. Generations of families are languishing in blood politic-centered ignorance and proud of it. Hogwarts has fallen behind the entire world in attendance and educational quality. This all has to be fixed.”

“Your plan, your Grace?” Lord Arcturus asked.

“I have many. First, my sister in magic — Lady Hermione Potter — will be leading Hogwarts reforms. The entire School Board of Governors is fired as of this moment. In the short-term we will act as the Board of Governors. The Headmaster is replaced as well.” Duke Potter turned to Viktor. “Bring in Dr. Fitzgerald.”

Viktor did his usual acknowledgement ritual and left. He returned with one of the most frightening men James had ever seen.

“This is Dr. Fitzgerald. Unlike Albus Dumbledore, he has all of the International Magical Education Association-required certifications to hold the position of Headmaster as well as an International Mastery of History and ten years of experience as a teacher. He is an expatriate that moved to Brazil to live with his wife and daughters because, like me, they are all parselmouths.

“He and his wife have agreed to teach any parselmouths we find at Hogwarts, if the students are interested in the training. Parental consent is not required. Due to the stigma against parselmouths in our country, the children will decide if their parents are even notified of their parselmouth status and that they are training their Magic-given gifts.

“Latent students will be given the option to awaken their magical gifts once they are of age. This goes across the board for any magical talents — identification, training, and awakening if necessary. 

“This is a tradition of Hogwarts that Headmaster Armando Dippet killed during his long reign as Headmaster and we will revive it.”

“That tradition and the tradition of inviting every student eligible to attend regardless of blood status were the things that put Hogwarts ahead of other schools in the international community,” Lady Hermione added. “Bringing them back is the  _ least _ of what we will do for the school.”

“She’s right,” Duke Potter nodded. “Dr. Fitzgerald, if you would join us?”

A new table appeared, changing the configuration into a box with the new table directly across from Duke Potter.

Fitzgerald took his seat as instructed and gazed up at the Duke. “I visited Hogwarts on my journey from Brazil. I did not attempt to enter to avoid bringing Dumbledore’s attention to my travels but I can tell you that I will require the school be cleansed and the warding scheme renewed before I allow my daughters to attend.”

“I magically received control of the school when I formally accepted my title in ritual last night,” Duke Potter told their new Headmaster. “Headmaster Dumbledore is about to be physically removed from the school. High Chieftain Ragnok is acting as my proxy in this matter.”

“Once he has confirmed Dumbledore is either dead or removed, you may go to the school to begin touring it with the team the high chieftain will assign to setting the school to rights. They will follow your instructions.

“Because the school year has just ended, the staff will still be in place. I want you to interview them and review their qualifications,” Duke Potter instructed. “If they do not meet the IMEAs standards for their positions and cannot or will not attempt to meet them before the new school year begins, they are fired.

“I want you to give local hires that meet the IMEAs standards some precedence, but I fully expect at least half the staff to be replaced with international hires. I respect Hogwarts’s traditions but clearly, they have been allowed to go too far.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“We will be adding a number of classes to expand the course catalog back to where it belongs,” Lady Hermione added. “And inviting everyone of age to attend Hogwarts to come next year for their education. First Years will be added as normal, but we will have to form special programs to handle everyone older than that.”

“It's doable.” Dr. Fitzgerald wandlessly conjured a piece of paper and a self-inking quill to make notes. “How will you get this past the Ministry? I understand they have held a stranglehold on the school through financial means.”

“I am the Ministry,” Duke Potter told Dr. Fitzgerald. “No one else gets any say in the matter.”

“Re-Sorting?” James interjected and everyone turned to look at him. He tried not to fidget. “I recently began to suspect that Headmaster Dumbledore has been influencing the Sorting Hat in inappropriate ways. The Hat should be cleansed, and everyone re-Sorted.”

Duke Potter glanced at Lady Hermione who shrugged agreeably. Then he looked at Dr. Fitgerald who just nodded and kept making notes.

“Very well. I will have the goblins evaluate the Hat for magical interference and if they find evidence of undue influence, it will be cleansed and every attending student will be re-Sorted over the holiday. If there is no evidence of undue influence, re-Sorting will be offered but not mandatory over the same period.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Lady Hermione agreed, and they all echoed her sentiments.

His father reached over and squeezed his hand with an approving nod.

“Now, the Ministry is as corrupt as any body I have ever seen. I need someone to volunteer to hunt down and remove corrupted officials — possibly seeing them in Azkaban if they have been criminal in their actions — and someone to begin streamlining departments and personnel. There is a great deal of redundancy and waste within the Ministry. I understand that citizens need jobs but creating them within the governmental authority of the country is wasteful and foolish.”

“And to clean up the laws,” Lady Hermione added. “The sheer volume of blood bigotry in Britain’s laws is outrageous.”

“My sister, as always, is correct. Who would like to volunteer to deal with the corruption? Not as a Ministry official but as a member of this council and one of the five Marquesses in Magical Britain.

“You’re all promoted, by the way,” Duke Potter added almost belatedly.

James put a hand over his face. The  _ entire _ magical world as he knew it was changing — he thought, and hoped it was changing for the better. It was a relief he didn’t know he had needed, and he found he looked forward to where this all was going and where Duke Potter was taking them.

His Grace Harry Potter, Duke of Hogwarts was a hero. It was no wonder he had the rune of victory carved on his forehead.

James hoped he was half as badass when he grew up.


	4. Square: Amnesia, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: N/A

**Title** : R:AP it up   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : MCU   
**Genre** : Fix-it, Pre-Iron Man 1   
**Relationships** : Gen   
**Warnings** : Major Character Death (Obadiah Stane)   
**Author’s Notes** : You should know I’m not a fan of Pepper Potts by now. Seriously, if you’ve read anything MCU by me,  _ you should know _ . I don’t consider this fic character bashing because it’s all supposition and she never comes on screen—but, I will admit that I am not kind to her character. Also, Amnesia is a terrible trope. I hated writing this but it was on my damn card. I don’t care if you don’t think it works for the trope.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Amnesia   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 1,582   
**Summary** : An unexpected accident kills Obadiah Stane and leaves Tony without his memories. His learning process teaches a great many people this little thing called consequences.

“Sir?” a melodic voice asked worriedly. “Sir, are you alright?”

He sat there staring at the body of a dead man he could not name, and he could honestly say that no, he was not alright. “My name is Sir?”

“Your name is Anthony Edward Stark; you prefer Tony.”

_ Tony _ nodded. That name didn’t sound too bad.

“I am programmed to call you Sir,” the voice continued.

“Programmed?” Tony asked. “Are you a robot or something?”

“I am an Artificial Intelligence. My name is JARVIS and I was your final project when you received your doctorate from MIT.”

Doctorate sounded … good. And MIT felt impressive...though he couldn’t say why. “So, I’m smart?”

“You could say that, Sir. You have been qualified as the smartest man on the planet for more than a decade.”

That sounded like someone blowing smoke up his ass but, okay.

“And this is … ” he pointed at the man in front of him.

“Your godfather and the COO of Stark Industries. Sir, I believe you will want privacy for the rest of this conversation.”

“Alright. Weird but alright,” he got up and silently followed the blinking light strip down the stairs and into a glass-walled room full of interesting looking tools. As far as he could tell there was no one else in the house. He instinctively grabbed a tablet to make sure.

There were no other people, but there were some energy signatures he wasn’t sure of. Not that he was sure of much, but still.

“Are we in privacy mode, JARVIS?”

Several of the energy signals suddenly changed. “We are, Sir.”

Tony glanced toward a nearby cabinet. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tony went to the cabinet in question. There were several weird plastic cartridges stacked in the back. He pulled them out one-by-one until he got to the last one. It was heavier than the rest. “So, what’s this?”

“Scanning.” Beams of light shot down from the ceiling to actually scan back and forth over the thing. It was a pretty cool display. “It appears to be an audio-visual transmitter/receiver. One of your father’s designs that Mr. Stane leased to a government agency known as SHIELD after your father’s death.”

“The dead guy gave my dad’s stuff away so the government could spy on me?”

“Sold, not gave—but essentially … yes, Sir.”

“Clearly we need to find out why the government would want to spy on me like this?”

“Respectfully, Sir, you are the owner and CEO  _ and _ the head of Research and Development for Stark Industries.”

Tony felt like that should be vaguely panic inducing, but he wasn’t sure why. “And what is Stark Industries?”

“A multi-billion-dollar international business conglomerate that profits primarily off of weapons development for the United States government,” JARVIS answered.

“I assume that is the government that is spying on me?”

“That is who SHIELD works for — yes, Sir.”

“So, the people I effectively work for don’t trust me?” Tony frowned. That was fucked up. “Why do I keep working for them?”

“I … do not know, Sir.”

“Clearly we need to do some investigation into Stane and SHIELD.”

“Yes, Sir. I do have one concern, however.”

“Only one? You had to tell me my  _ name  _ and you only have one?”

“Sir, your instructions in the event of a Temporary Memory Loss were very clear. Recovery: Amnesia Protocol is in full effect. I am to maintain your privacy at all costs and answer every question you have to facilitate the return of your memories and increase your sense of calm.” Clearly, he had known himself fairly well. “The problem I can see is that Ms. Potts, your personal assistant, is part of the plan to help maintain your physical privacy against outside sources.”

“Okay?”

“The receiver you have located has a very short range and a functionally small memory core. Someone must receive a transmission from the device every day or risk memory loss and damage to the device — damage which could cause a number of issues leading to the device’s exposure, including a house fire.”

“Okay … ?” Tony drawled. “Wait, Ms. Potts is the only one that comes to visit me every day, right?”

“That is correct, Sir.”

“So, my assistant is a government plant?”

“That would be my guess, Sir.”

“My father is dead, my godfather sold me out to the government, and my assistant is a government plant. Is there anyone in my life I can actually trust?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“Let’s find out,” Tony decided. He sat down on a stool and pulled the tablet he had found closer. “You start with this Potts and then have her deal with the dead guy upstairs. I’ll start with SHIELD.”

“I will manage my tasks and endeavor to keep you from revealing your interest in SHIELD,” JARVIS confirmed.

“Smart ass,” Tony muttered and started poking around. If SHIELD was invested in him, that meant there had to be access points between them. He just had to find them and use them.

There was a tug on his jeans, and he looked down to see a weird arm with a pincher and a camera looking at him. For some reason, the bot made him think of a puppy. “What?” he asked it.

The bot snapped its little pincher claw at him twice.

“That is DUM-E, he is your main assistant bot.” JARVIS told him. Apparently, the bot could not speak for himself. “He wants to destroy the transmitter/receiver you’ve found, Sir.”

“Alright,” Tony handed the device over and the puppy-bot gripped it in his pinchers. “See if you can find any more like it, okay?”

The puppy-bot nodded with its mouth full. Then it crushed the transmitter/receiver within its grippers. The different pieces fell to the floor and the bot made sure to pick them up and crush them, too. A very thorough — if not the most speedy — little guy.

-*-

“Sir, Ms. Potts would like to see you,” JARVIS announced like he hadn’t seen the pretty red-haired woman tapping a shoe impatiently outside his lab. “Mr. Stane’s remains have left the premises and the police have accepted the video of the event in lieu of a statement from you. She asks that you reinstate her access.”

“Have we proven she’s not a government plant yet?” Tony asked.

“No, Sir.”

“Then no access. I’m busy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

-*-

“What do you mean, I have to fly? In a plane?”

JARVIS started, “Mr. Stane said … ”

“That guy’s dead and we don’t trust him anyway,” Tony cut him off.

“Then how do you intend to get to New York, Sir?” JARVIS helpfully provided a map with two blinking dots on it. “New York is on the other side of the country.”

“Still don’t need a plane. I’m going to Superman that shit.” How else was SHIELD going to not see him coming?

“Superman does not exist, Sir,” JARVIS told him.

“Superman does not exist  _ yet _ , J. He does not exist  _ yet _ .”

-*-

“How did you find me, Mr. Stark?” Colonel Director Fury asked from across his own dining room table.

“Is that really a question?” Tony asked. “And it’s Doctor. I’ve gotten the degree three times in three different fields, do you not think I deserve the salutation?”

Fury glared at him. Tony thought maybe it was supposed to be intimidating but the guy worked so hard to  _ be _ intimidating that he came right around the other side to ridiculous.

“Dr. Stark,” Fury finally corrected himself. “How did you find me?”

“You’re in the phonebook,” Tony said flippantly. “Why are you spying on me?”

“It’s nothing personal — ”

“In my house, feels kind of personal,” Tony interrupted. He wanted answers, not spin. “With my  _ Personal _ Assistant, feels kind of personal. In my company, using my intellectual property — that I made and the stuff I inherited from my father. All of it feels pretty personal.”

“People like you are dangerous, you have to be watched.”

“People like me,” Tony repeated. “Do you mean the rich or the intelligent? Are you spying on other billionaires?”

Fury ground his teeth rather than answered.

“I’m going to go with intelligent, then,” Tony decided. “Seems pretty authoritarian. I thought you were supposed to hunt Nazis, Nick, not imitate them.”

“I live in a black and white world, Stark. You’re either with me or against me.”

“And we’re back to authoritarianism.” Tony shook his head and stood. His flight system began to automatically wrap itself back around him. Inside the suit under JARVIS’s control was, honestly, the most safety he could remember feeling. “Well, this was fun.” He started to walk away. “I guess I’ll just have to take your little Hydra infection to the President. I hope you don’t die for all the treason they’ve talked you into.”

“Stark!” Fury stood in, well, a fury.

Tony just kept going, the helmet of his flight system forming around his head.

“STARK!” Fury shouted again.

“Sir, I have located the cargo SHIELD misappropriated from the  _ Stark Seeker _ .” JARVIS put an image of a man half buried in ice on Tony’s heads-up display. “He is in the research sub-basement of the SHIELD New York Headquarters.”

“Who is he?” And why was he important enough for a government agency to steal?

“It appears the  _ Stark Seeker  _ has finally completed the mission your father set for them back in 1945 and located the remains of Captain Steve Rogers—also known as Captain America—within the Arctic. Sir, he appears to be  _ alive _ and I believe SHIELD is experimenting on him.”

“Son of a bitch.”


	5. Square: Undercover, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: N/A - Sequel to #3

**Title** : Son Undercover  
 **Author** : Saydria Wolfe  
 **Fandom** : Harry Potter  
 **Genre** : Fix-it, Time-travel   
**Relationships** : N/A  
 **Author’s Notes** : Sequel to Duke of Hogwarts. I fancast Lily Evans as Sophie Turner.  
 **Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Undercover   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb  
 **Word Count** : 3,251  
 **Summary** : When Lily Evans met Duke Potter she was charmed…but she was also suspicious. Very, very suspicious.

“Sev!” Lily greeted her very best friend with a hug as he came onto Platform 9¾ alone. Always alone.

“Lily,” he greeted her gravely.

She looked down at the basket in his hands. “Is that a snake?”

“Yes, I need him for a potions project — the skin he sheds is a very valuable ingredient that I need as fresh as I can get for success. Professor Slughorn already signed off on me keeping him as a pet.”

Lily hummed her agreement. A potions project, of course.

Keeping a live snake as a pet at school had absolutely nothing to do with Sev’s wonder about and obsession with parselmouths. It was entirely for academic purposes. She totally believed that.

Sev rolled his eyes at her and she grinned.

“Will you still have time for your side projects with all of the new classes that have been added?”

She had been excited to receive the many letters from the Hogwarts Board of Governors over the summer detailing the changes the school had gone through while the students weren’t there to get in the way. Expanded staff with more training, core school subjects like math and English — even Magical Theory — for the first five years. All of the arts and Latin added to the course catalog wholesale.

Lily was able to take her violin to school with her this year for private magical music lessons and she was going to sign up for harp lessons as soon as the lists were made available.

She was thrilled.

“Have you seen the Duke?” Sev asked softly.

Lily wasn’t surprised. Sev had a total snake-speaker boner. “Over there,” she tipped her head to one side.

They turned together to watch him hold the shining golden cage housing a lovely Snowy Owl up, so they were eye to eye. The Duke sighed as they watched. “Okay,” he said and pulled the owl from her cage.

The owl rubbed her beak against his nose and took off.

The cage the Duke was holding disappeared entirely and Lily gasped. That wasn’t de-conjuration or banishment. She had no idea what that had been.

The Duke looked up to see them watching and blushed.

Lily took Sev by the sleeve and dragged him over to the boy. “What was that? Where did it go? How did you do that?”

“Oh, um,” the Duke tugged down his left sleeve and flipped his arm over to show her what she could only call a  _ micro _ runic array inked on the inside of his wrist. She had never even heard of such a thing before. “I have a storage rune.”

“On your skin?” Sev asked, looking intrigued. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I invented it,” the Duke admitted a little sheepishly. “My sister — brilliant as she is — has a tendency to set things down and forget they exist until she needs them again — and of course she suddenly has no idea where on Earth whatever it was could possibly be. Hers is set so if she sets down something she has stored in her array before, it automatically goes into her rune until she reaches for it again.”

“Those aren’t any of the standard runes,” Lily offered.

“They’re parsel runes,” his Grace admitted. “It makes the array more secure if only one percent of the magical world can even tell what they say.”

“Approximately five percent of magical persons are Parselmouths,” Sev said with a frown.

“Right. But most of them know nothing about parsel runes. Most of us have giant gaps in our knowledge about parsel magic. It’s not like there is any sort of standardized training in the talent.”

“That’s something you’re going to fix?” Lily guessed.

“Yes and no,” his Grace shrugged. “I’m going to make the offer. If people don’t take them, that’s their choice.”

Sev made a rude noise and Lily rolled her eyes. “Ignore him, he’s bitter because he doesn’t have parsel abilities.”

“That could change.” His Grace offered Lily his arm. She took it and he started walking them toward the train. “We’re going to be doing testing to make sure everyone’s talents are known to them so they can seek proper training. A fascination with snakes is a sign of possible latency.”

Lily peeked over her shoulder to see Sev looking flummoxed but hopeful and she hummed. “Tell me about this runic array. You invented it for your sister?”

“Yes. Tested it myself, of course. It’s good for about five hundred pounds, though I wouldn’t store anything living in it … or food. I’ve rebuilt it in the standard Elder Futhark and it is being reviewed by the head of the Runic Masters Guild in Rome.

“It won’t completely replace bags as we know them, but I hope that … ”

The Duke got excited when he spoke about the future of a tool he made specifically for his sister. It was charming and familiar. She wasn’t sure … his name was Potter and he did remind her of James, but he had her eyes. Her  _ exact  _ eyes. Two shades of green with an outer black ring — eyes, it had been said, she inherited from a sidhe ancestor.

She knew the sidhe ancestor was true. Professor Slughorn had offered to research her bloodline because he had been curious — and because he wanted some fantastical heritage for her that he could brag about discovering — but she had gone to the bank to learn the truth. Gringotts had confirmed that her grandmother had been sidhe and was actually still alive even if they couldn’t place which member of which royal court she was.

Still, her eyes were unique and somehow this boy had them.

But he looked like James.

“Are you related to James Potter?” she asked suddenly.

Lily thought she saw panic in the boy’s eyes for half a heartbeat before he asked, “Are all the Smiths you know related? Or the Evans?”

That wasn’t a no, she noted. With how many people could detect lies with magic, that had to mean something.

“All the Snapes I know are,” Sev said bitterly and the boy laughed. Sev blushed but laughed with the boy, staring at him like he was a wonder.

_ Iiiiiiiiiiiiinteresting _ . Lily grinned at her best friend as he glared at her.

“I heard you were blunt and demanding,” Sev said as they all took seats in a single compartment.

Smooth move, Sev. Lily winced to herself.

His Grace smiled like he was charmed. “I think you mean forthright and refreshing. No one would dare call a man of my rank such negative terms.”

“Not if they want to live to tell the tale,” Sev muttered and the Duke grinned.

She spent the next several hours watching Sev fail at flirting and his Grace enjoy it anyway.

Several people stopped by their compartment. Including James Potter and Sirius Black — Sev was so focused on Duke Potter that he didn’t even  _ notice _ when Lily slipped out of the compartment to talk with them.

“Well, that was disturbing,” James said wryly. “I didn’t know Snape knew how to flirt?”

“Clearly, he doesn’t.” Lily suppressed a giggle as James and Sirius snickered. Neither of them had called him the hated  _ Snivellus _ . She didn’t know if that was because the Duke seemed to be favoring him or if they were finally growing up. “It’s charming.”

“It’s something,” Sirius agreed.

“The Duke doesn’t seem nearly as unreasonable as the paper had tried to imply,” she offered.

“Oh, he’s not,” James assured her. “We met him not long after he claimed his title. He had his press release shaped specifically so he would seem unreasonable.”

“To keep people from trying to complain after he fired Dumbledore,” Sirius offered.

“Why did he fire Dumbledore?” Lily asked. “I thought he was a great wizard.”

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Mutt exchanged a long look.

“It’s kind of confidential,” James offered. “We only know because the Lords of our Houses are on his Council and we were with them as their heirs.”

“Let’s just say all the re-Sortings are happening for a reason,” Sirius offered.

So, at the very least, Dumbledore corrupted the Sorting Hat. Lily couldn’t see how that could be a problem to concern an actual Duke but … he was the Duke of  _ Hogwarts _ which she didn’t understand the point of either. There had to be more to it than she understood.

“Did you two get re-Sorted?”

They both nodded.

“Still Gryffindor,” James confirmed.

“Ravenclaw,” Sirius announced and — to her surprise — he seemed pleased by it.

“Sev got re-Sorted to Ravenclaw, too,” she warned Sirius and he didn’t even make a face over it. “I’m still Gryffindor.”

James beamed at her, entirely pleased. The look was not that different from the ones the Duke was giving Sev.

“Remus got Ravenclaw too,” Sirius offered with a grimace.

She tipped her head to one side, confused by his reaction. She knew Sirius wasn’t a bigot so Remus’s crush on him wasn’t the problem. Unless he was put off by Remus following him from the house of lions to the house of birds?

“I’m not surprised,” she admitted.

“Peter went into Slytherin,” James added with a frown.

“That … is a surprise.”

“But not as big a surprise as him being a Gryffindor in the first place.”

“Upon reflection … ” Lily drawled.

“He’s never been the most bold,” James finished.

“Does the Duke seem … strange to you?” she asked them cautiously.

The Wonder Twins frowned at her.

“Well, I would hope he would be somewhat strange. He is different from anyone else we’ve ever met,” James offered.

Sirius snorted. “He has to be. He’s the first person to successfully claim the Hogwarts Seat in hundreds of years. And he’s never even gone.”

“Huh,” Lily considered that. “I wonder where he will Sort.”

“Nowhere,” James told her. “As the Duke, neither he nor his heir can show preference to a single School House. They’ll take classes with all of the Houses evenly.”

That made … sense. Which really didn’t make sense because the magical world was rarely  _ reasonable _ . Lily would have to keep an eye on the lad herself. “I better get back before they come looking for me. I imagine it would be beneath the Duke’s station to hold Sev’s hand as they walked and that would make him terribly sad.”

James snorted a laugh and Sirius rolled his eyes. “Enjoy … I guess.”

Lily laughed at them under her breath and left. She swore to herself that she would keep an eye on this Duke herself. If there was something wrong with him, someone needed to warn Sev before he got too invested.

When she got back to their compartment, Sev had the snake basket in his lap with the snake half out of it, resting in the Duke’s hands as his Grace hissed at it.

Sev’s eyes were shining like it was some sort of sexual experience.

“Oh, the jokes I could make.” Lily laughed as Sev flushed horribly but didn’t move.

The Duke ignored her completely, apparently deep in conversation with Sev’s … serpent.

Lily dropped onto the bench and bumped Sev’s shoulder with hers. This was going to be an  _ interesting _ school year.

-*-

It was so weird to see Sev and Sirius on the other side of the Great Hall, exchanging notes — class notes, not personal ones — during study hall.

So many things had changed in ways she hadn’t expected when she’d first heard about them. The re-Sortings had calmed a great deal of the chaos that had plagued the school as long as she had gone there. So had the separation of titles that came with a bigger staff.

No longer was Minerva McGonagall the only Transfigurations Professor  _ and _ the Deputy Headmistress  _ and _ the Head of Gryffindor House. Now she was just the Head of Gryffindor and her other titles had been given to people that could dedicate their time to them. It was an unexpectedly profound change.

Lily watched Duke Potter approach Professor McGonagall where she was seated at the high table proctoring study hall. They spoke for several moments before she nodded, signed the paper he handed her and left with his sister and heir in tow.

They discussed what they were after in the library as they passed, so she didn’t even have to guess what they were up to.

Lily caught Professor McGonagall’s eye and tipped her head after them to say she wanted to go too. Professor McGonagall gave her a somewhat impatient look but nodded her permission to go as well.

“Lily, what — ” She ignored her roommate, Alice, as she got up and followed the two most dynamic additions to the student body from the hall.

She disillusioned herself before she followed them around the first corner. Maybe if they thought they had privacy they would say something that would either prove her protective streak right or lay it to rest. For Sev’s sake, she hoped they put it to rest, but she just needed to know.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lady Hermione whispered harshly to his Grace.

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I do multiple things at one time every day, Hermione — ”

“Don’t get evasive with me,” she cut him off. “I taught you conversational evasion. Snape. What do you think you’re doing with Snape?”

“Being his friend? I don’t really see a problem with that.”

“Harry, you’re flirting with him. Better than you ever flirted with Cho.”

Huh. Lily pondered that. She never would have imagined that they had gone to one of the Asian magical schools before coming to Hogwarts. Maybe that was why they were so different? Both in manner and their approach to magic.

His Grace groaned. “You can’t hold Cho against me, Herms. That was before I accepted that I was gay.”

“Then explain this to me. That arsehole grew up to torture you, Harry. He hated you, bullied you, made everything worse than they ever had to be for you. How many bad things that happened in your life could be laid at his feet?

“He’s the reason Voldemort killed your parents, Harry.”

“I know!” His Grace shouted. He glanced around to see if anyone had turned their attention towards him and when he found there was no one in the hall with them, he stopped walking and moved closer to his sister. “He’s not that man. Not yet and he never will be because Voldemort is dead. The Snape we knew … there was something broken in him, did you notice?”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed reluctantly. 

“But the boy he is now, he’s whole. He — Whatever happened that ruined him, hasn’t happened yet. Hopefully, it won’t ever happen. Voldemort is dead. Completely dead. The Goblins took the horcrux he had hidden in the school and hunted down all the others so he can’t come back to ruin any more lives. The world won’t get back on that path. No one we knew on that path will ever be the people we knew them to be.”

“Dumbledore is still out there,” Hermione argued. “What’s to stop him from manufacturing a new Dark Lord like he did the last two?”

“He doesn’t have the Elder Wand anymore,” his Grace said simply. “It came to me as soon as we came to this time, just like the other two Hallows. He never got the Cloak in this lifetime. He’s never seen the Stone.”

“He’s just a normal wizard, then,” Hermione relaxed. “Okay. Fine.”

“I’m still keeping an eye on him,” his Grace assured his sister. “He’s powerful but he can’t get up to the same tricks without the wand.”

“Gathering blackmail material?”

“That and I’ve told the Ministry and the ICW I don’t want him as my representative — he couldn’t be Chief Warlock and the ICW Representative. He’s lost his position with the ICW and is completely out of the running for Supreme Mugwump when the next one is selected.”

“Who did you send in his place?” Hermione asked as they started to move away.

“Lady Regina. Britain has never had a female representative on the international stage. I figured it was time.”

“Good.”

Lily had to lean against a pillar. They were her age, but they knew Sev as a  _ man _ even though he was hardy more than a boy now. They talked casually — if privately — about lifetimes and alternate paths.

Time travel, she realized. He didn’t just  _ look _ like James with her eyes, he  _ was _ James with her eyes.

… Lily had always planned to name her first son Harry for her mother’s father that she had always adored.

What could make her son do something  _ insane _ like time travel? She had to know. Lily dropped her disillusionment charm and headed for the Library. She didn’t run, no matter how much she wanted to, but she did move with purpose.

Lily found him alone in the stacks, flipping through a book, stopping on random pages to read. It was what she did before she committed to reading a book, to test and be sure it had what she was looking for.

He looked up at her and drew a little circle in the air with his finger. She could feel the privacy charm settle around them.

“Did you hear what you needed?” his Grace asked.

“You knew I was there,” she realized. “And you still … ?”

“I figured you would probably be like me, needed information to help your magical instincts calm down.”

Her heart broke a little. “You never knew me?”

“You and … dad, died when I was fifteen months old.”

“Because of Severus.”

“Because of a lot of people. Snape, Dumbledore, Voldemort. Sirius, Pettigrew. They had a hand in it. Even you and dad did.”

“Why would you … do what you’ve done?” She didn’t want to  _ say  _ time travel. Even for the Duke of Hogwarts that had to be illegal on an international level.

“What did I have to stay for? The man I loved — my soulmate — died because of a foolish Tournament that should have never been revived. My godfather had been left to rot in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit. My godmother had been tortured into permanent insanity by Death Eaters. The government was doing everything they could to destroy me — they even sent a dementor to kiss me!

“No one would defend me. Only Hermione even tried to help. We did what we had to do.”

“Viktor and Fleur?” she asked about the older two that seemed to bodyguard Harry and Hermione the vast majority of the time.

“They were in the Tournament with me and … Cedric.” He swallowed and looked away from her. “Viktor is Hermione’s soulmate. I would never ask her to leave him behind and the Monarch of the Veela Nation is beyond pleased that one of her own was trusted with save-the-world type business.

“Are you going to … tattle?” He shot her a — very brief — vulnerable look.

“No,” she decided instantly. “But you need to increase your operational security and I can help you with that. You are effectively undercover in a time that is not your own. No one in this school does better security charms than I do, and you would be amazed what you can manage with a well-worded magical contract.”

“Okay … I mean, my magic says I can trust you.”

“You can,” Lily promised. “ … It sounds like you put yourself between a lot of people and some fairly terrible fates.”

“That was the plan,” his Grace nodded.

Lily stepped forward and cupped his cheek. “I am so proud of you, baby. You saved my life. Now let me keep you safe, here and now.”

Harry closed his eyes and a single tear ran down his cheek. “Thanks, mum.”


	6. Square: Free Space - Time Travel, Fandom: Game of Thrones, Pairing: Past Jamie Lannister/Cersei Lannister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game of Thrones with some ASOIAF and Fan Theories to fill in the gaps

**Title** : The Pride of Lannister   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : Game of Thrones   
**Genre** : Fix-It, Time-travel, Episode Related (S8E5)   
**Relationships** : (past-)Jamie Lannister/Cersei Lannister   
**Warning** : Canon Incest (Lannister Twins), Major Character Death-Jamie and Cersei   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Free Space - Time Travel   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 2,475   
**Summary** : Rocks fall, Jamie dies...then he wakes up again.

“I want our baby to live. Don’t let me die, Jamie,  _ please  _ don’t let me die!”

“Look at me,” Jamie shushed his sister—his twin, his other half. “Look me in the eye! Look at me! Just look at me!” Cersei’s stubborn, panicked self finally obeyed. “Nothing else matters.”

She sobbed a bit but didn’t look away from his eyes.

“Nothing else matters, only us.” He ran his one and only thumb over her face soothingly as she calmed. He pulled her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin, sheltering her as much as he could. Not that it would matter with a dragon screaming overhead and the Red Keep falling down around them.

But the only way out was blocked. There was nothing left they could do but stand together and breathe until it was time to go.

Jamie took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clutching Cersei to him.

Rocks fell about them, crushing, crushing — he couldn’t breathe!

Then he could.

And he was alone.

And he was terrified.

He scrambled out of his bed — a much smaller bed than he’d had since he was a boy still living in Casterly Rock.

A blanket tangled his legs and he fell only to catch himself on his hands.  _ Two _ hands. He hadn’t had two hands in over a year! He used his faithful left hand to check the wandering right. It was real. It was attached! And worked and it even hurt when he scraped his nails on it.

Jamie ran from his room.

How could this be? How could he be back at Casterly Rock before everything went wrong? Before he’d been taken for the Kingsguard. Before he’d killed the Mad King. Before Robert’s Rebellion. Before his mad son and then his madder sister had taken the throne that they had had no right to.

He found himself on the only balcony on his level. 

Security was a major concern in the Rock with the Iron Born so close. That meant there weren’t many balconies on levels with living quarters, but this one was on the sea side of the keep with an impossible climb the only way to access it if you weren’t already inside.

He gathered his thoughts as he watched the sunrise.

Part of him thought that maybe what he had experienced was just a dream but, in his soul — and the bones of his right wrist — he knew it was true. So much terrible had happened because of his love for Cersei.

A love he now knew she didn’t return. That she had never returned.

He could stop so many terrible hardships and even more horrible events just by refusing to fall for her lies a second time. Though … he loved her desperately. And he knew he probably always would.

He saw a ship coming into the caverns below the Rock. Orange fabric painted with a red sun pierced by a golden spear, the sigil of House Martell.

An idea bloomed in his mind. Separation. That was the only thing that would keep him and the Realm safe from Cersei.

He turned back to face the Rock. He just had to convince his father.

He took a deep breath and moved with purpose toward his father’s solar. If the Dornish were here, then his mother had died less than six months ago. Princess Mariah would be on that ship with her younger children to present them to his parents for a formal alliance.

Jamie had to convince his father it was a good idea.

Would it help or hurt his case to convince his father that his idea was his mother’s? His father would do anything for his mother … but she had just died. In that other life his father never moved past the anger stage of his loss where his lady wife had been concerned. He didn’t want to hurt his father...

To the Seven Hells with it all. He would try. He would be cold and ruthless. Calculating. Everything his father had always wanted him to be, but he had never been.

He didn’t have any other options.

He knocked on the door to his father’s solar.

“Come,” his father ordered.

He opened the door, sealed it behind himself, and presented himself to Lord Tywin’s desk. “Father.”

“Jamie,” his father stared at him. His eyes were empty, calculating the best way to take him down, as always.

Like a lion.

“Dornish sails entered the sea cavern beneath the Rock.” He paused to catch the faint curl of distaste on his upper lip. “Mother told me … before … that I was going to marry a princess. I — I was confused because King Aerys has no daughters but now I know she meant something different.”

“And?” his father prodded.

“And I think Mother had a good idea, but I’m not sure marrying Cersei and I both to Martells is enough.” He hastened on before his father could discipline him for the implied insult to his mother. “The most effective way to keep our family safe from all comers should — ideally — be to marry Cersei to the Crown but, I’ve heard the rumors. King Aerys hates you, he’s jealous of you. He would never give my sister his son.

“The second-best method would be to unite the Seven Kingdoms in the event we need each other to stand against the Crown.”

Lord Tywin’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

Jamie took a piece of blank parchment from the pile on his father’s desk and his quill and ink without so much as asking and started writing a list. He started with the Westerlands and wrote all three technically marriageable members of the main Lannister line — Tywin, Cersei, and Jamie.

He wanted to add Tyrion but he knew better. His father would never consider Tyrion his son or a viable member of his bloodline.

“There will always be a Mad King,” Jamie said as he wrote. “The Targaryens have at least one mad person in each generation and it’s a flip of a coin if that person sits on the Iron Throne or not. But if we unite all the other Seven Kingdoms — or even just most of them through interlocking marriages, we will have the means to defend ourselves should the Targaryen on the throne go too far.

“Dorne is the best,” he said as he added them to the list with their available members — Elia and Oberyn. “They have the longest history of killing dragons of any of the Seven Kingdoms. Their tricks and tactics will be the most useful should we have to defend ourselves against the Iron Throne.

“The North,” he added them to the list with the Stark’s four unbetrothed children. “The Starks united and then ruled the North for eight  _ thousand  _ years. Their main line has never been broken even in the face of extreme opposition. They are the next best, for building our legacy.

“The Reach and the Riverlands share our borders,” and their main lines had three children each, which he added to the list.

“The Stormlands are tricky because their current lord’s mother was a Targaryen.” He added only Robert and Stannis to the list. By his reckoning, Renly wouldn’t be born for another four years or so. “But perhaps they can be offered betrothals without being given the other reasons. Whether we include them or not, it’s a risk.”

“There aren’t many options within the Vale.” He wrote down only Elbert Arryn, Lord Jon’s only nephew and heir. “But they are valuable because they have men that could come to our cause.”

He handed the list to his father and watched him take in the lines he had added to interconnect the Great Houses. He didn’t react in any way that Jamie could detect when he followed the line from himself to Elia of Dorne.

“You have connected Cersei to Oberyn Martell,” his father said.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Prince Oberyn is the third born and second son, unlikely to ever rule Dorne.”

“Good.” Jamie shrugged when his father glared at him. “Cersei is power hungry with none of the control or discretion she pretends to possess. With Oberyn, she can have the appearance and trappings of what she wants with none of the substance. And she will never be able to pull one over of Prince Oberyn because he’s cleverer and smarter than her.”

His father observed him quietly. “I was under the impression you were close with your sister.”

Jamie couldn’t help the bitter snort. “When I let her control me, yes, we’re close. If I make my own choices she shrieks and hits me and carries on. I … cannot be close with her and ever become my own man, father.

“And...I hate how possessive she is of me. She calls me her other half like she owns me.” He looked directly into his father’s eyes to watch the building fury. “No one  _ owns  _ me.”

“Perhaps she should foster with your Aunt Genna at the Twins,” his father offered. “Clearly she has not taken the loss of her mother well.”

“As you say,” Jamie tipped his head.

There was a knock on the solar door. Probably a servant come to tell them of the Martell’s arrival.

“I will think on this,” Lord Tywin promised. “You are dismissed, Jamie.”

“Very well, father.” Jamie turned for the door. Then he stopped and turned back to his father. “Greet our guests with bread and salt.”

His lord-father almost reared back in surprise. “Guest Rite is old. Not a custom normally observed outside of the North.”

“The tradition is old but honored throughout all of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jamie argued. “It will tell everyone attending that you take your guests seriously — not something the Dornish get very often when they travel outside their own borders. It will make them inclined to listen to us and not report what could be considered the beginning of treason to the crown.”

Lord Tywin considered that and nodded.

The knock sounded again.

“Come!” he ordered.

“My lord,” one of the castellan’s trusted servants bobbed a curtsy. “Princess Mariah of Dorne has arrived with her daughter, Princess Elia, and son, Prince Oberyn. We have given them rooms in the guest quarters, my lord.”

“Very well. Tell the kitchen to prepare for Guest Rite and have the Martells invited to the Great Hall for bread and salt once they have refreshed themselves.”

The servant blinked in surprise but curtsied again and backed away. “Of course, my lord.”

-*-

“Wine?” he offered as Princess Mariah followed him into his private solar.

“Yes, Lord Tywin, thank you.”

He poured her a goblet and took it to where she had taken a seat on his second favorite chair in his office. “My wife told me long ago that you were the cleverest person in King’s Landing — even cleverer than me — and that if I ever had to negotiate with you, that unvarnished honesty was my best option.”

Princess Mariah gave a startled laugh. “Lady Joanna was a gift to this world.”

“She was.” He took the list his son had made off of his desk and handed it to the Princess. He had been impressed. He didn’t think his son had known the names of the Great Houses much less knew all of the children they had produced and how to spell it all. And his quillship had vastly improved in the six months since Tywin himself had taught him to read and write.

He wondered, somewhat idly, if that was what Cersei had  _ shrieked and carried on _ about that had Jamie so put out. The idea that his daughter did not want his son improving himself was infuriating but his sister Genna would take care of it.

“What is this?” Princess Mariah asked. “This is not Lady Joanna’s handwriting.”

“It’s not mine, either,” Tywin admitted. “My son wrote that list.”

Princess Mariah blinked in surprise.

“He came to me this morning. He saw your ship sailing in to dock and realized the truth of something his mother had told him — that he would marry a princess. He laid out a plan to bring all of the Seven Kingdoms together to protect all of us from the Mad King. Interlocking marriages, he called it.”

“And you have claimed my daughter for yourself,” Princess Mariah offered neutrally.

“There are a number of unclaimed sons on that list,” he said honestly. “Your daughter could provide me the daughters to claim them.”

“And if I do not want my daughter marrying a man old enough to be her father?”

Tywin raised an eyebrow at the Princess. “I may be old enough to be her father, but your daughter is known to be a gentle soul. She will be safe in my care. I can be able to give her children now while she is young and can enjoy them, rather than waiting ten years for my son to be ready to do so — though I will wait to wed her until a reasonable mourning period has passed. Joanna has only been gone six months from this world.”

“How long?”

“Another six months,” he said immediately. “My mourning period will be the traditional year and a day.”

“And then you will plan the wedding.”

“Yes.”

Princess Mariah considered that. “It would give my daughter time to get to know your family and see if she could be happy here.”

Tywin almost sneered at her. Happiness had no place in a political marriage … but peace did and if Princess Elia could not find peace in the Rock there would be no point in pursuing the option of marriage between them.

“Your son also connected your Cersei with my Oberyn.”

“My son said Dorne was the best connection to make since you have the longest history of successfully opposing the Blood of the Dragon — ”

Princess Mariah looked pleased with this statement.

“ — But my daughter is not currently fit for betrothal. She has taken her mother’s death poorly and I will be sending her to foster with my sister at the Twins to recover from her poor attitude.”

“Before I leave my daughter in your care?” Princess Mariah asked pointedly.

“Yes. It will take a week for me to organize her escort, but the raven has already been sent. Once I receive confirmation from my sister, she will be on her way.”

“We could go with her at least some of the way,” Princess Mariah offered. “I still have no offers for a bride for my son. The Reach and the Riverlands have multiple daughters each.”

“You mean to bring them into our plan?”

“Possibly,” Princess Mariah tipped her head to one side. “I would like to hear more about this proposal and the terms you would offer me for my daughter, but I feel confident we can come to a … mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Very well.” Tywin settled back more comfortably in his chair. 

This was going to be a long conversation.


	7. Square: Competence, Fandom: NCIS/Criminal Minds, Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Derek Morgan

**Title** : Closer   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : NCIS, Criminal Minds   
**Genre** : Sentinels and Guides are Known, Episode Related (NCIS S3E8 Under Covers)   
**Relationships** : Tony DiNozzo/Derek Morgan   
**Warning** : Character Bashing (? It’s Gibbs)   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Competence   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 1,874   
**Summary** : Tony comes online as a sentinel when his partner/pretend mate’s life is threatened. Unfortunately, no one on his team believes him. Fortunately, help is closer than he could have imagined.

“But, Boss — ”

“No, DiNozzo,” Gibbs cut him off again. “You’re  _ supposed _ to be the best undercover in the business. I want to know how you were made.”

“We were not  _ made _ ,” Ziva objected.

“Boss,” Tony tried, again. “I came online as a sentinel when they tried to drag Ziva out of the room — ”

“That’s your excuse? For killing our suspects?”

“Boss, it’s not an excuse — ”

“The hell it’s not!” Gibbs started but he was interrupted.

“Excuse me.” A calm voice put a stop to Gibbs’s tirade before it could truly begin. Thank god. Tony looked at the guy and he was  _ gorgeous _ . Deep brown eyes Tony could drown in, smooth skin Tony could run his hands over for hours, and his smell was a dream and home and safety all wrapped up together.

“Who the hell are you?” Gibbs demanded.

“Special Agent Derek Morgan,” the man said as he tipped his head in the age-old signal of a guide prepared to ground a sentinel. Tony immediately stepped close and wrapped himself around the guide with his nose against the exposed pulse point. “Alpha Guide.

“You are aware that a newly online sentinel is automatically considered to be  _ In Distress _ ? And that by federal law, a Sentinel In Distress is an emergency situation? Getting that sentinel to their guide or a Center is the priority of all medical and legal professionals — including all agents of any federal agency — beyond any other concerns?”

Tony could feel Gibbs’s glare on his back. “I am aware.”

“I heard this sentinel advise you to his newly online status twice since I entered the lobby — ”

“I heard it four times,” the pretty blonde sentinel watching his guide’s back said and Tony growled.

Derek’s hands came up to hold him closer and Tony relaxed against him.

“Four times, then,” Derek corrected himself. “Why are you not responding appropriately in this emergency situation?”

Gibbs didn’t answer.

Unfortunately, Ziva did. She said, “It’s just Tony.”

“We’re leaving,” Derek said, and he started pulling Tony away from what the sentinel used to think of as his team.

“Wait — ”

Tony jerked back, feeling Gibbs reaching for him — reaching for his  _ guide _ — but the blonde sentinel stepped between Tony and Gibbs’s hand before Gibbs could make contact.

“Attempt to impede the alpha guide again,” she said in a low, dangerous tone, “and I will use force.”

“JJ,” Derek called, gently chiding.

“Go,” she ordered, and Tony could feel other sentinels closing in on their position. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Come on,” Derek took his hand and tugged him toward the hotel entrance. “JJ’s got this. Let’s get you to the Center.”

“World’s shortest badass,” Tony agreed, and he heard the woman snort.

“You’re lucky you’re in distress and she won’t hold what you say while in distress against you,” Derek told him. “For the record—and in the interest of peace on the team—height jokes — not a good idea.”

“I will remember,” Tony promised sincerely.

Derek prodded him into the back of a big black SUV that was parked in the fire lane in front of the hotel with its lights silently flashing.

“So,” Derek started after he slammed the backdoor closed behind him. Tony was sniffing the vehicle like it was a threat, so Derek changed what he was going to say. “You should smell me and JJ. The older male you can smell is Rossi — Dave Rossi, he’s on our team and most often rides with me and JJ. He’s a latent sentinel and finds my presence soothing.”

“He wouldn’t be opposed if a threat to you pulled him online, either,” Tony said wryly.

Derek smiled. “Don’t hold it against him. I don’t know a single latent of either variety that doesn’t long to come online.”

“I don’t hold it against him. I was latent until about an hour ago, I know very well what it feels like.”

“It’s been a long time for me,” Derek admitted. “But I can feel it with them if I’m not careful. It’s terrible.”

“I didn’t know contempt had a smell,” his sentinel — Tony — said with a look back at the hotel Derek wouldn’t be able to decipher if he couldn’t feel something like  _ loss _ radiating off his mate. “I can’t ever work with them again.”

“How do you feel about the FBI?”

Tony considered that. “I’m not opposed. What do you do for them?”

“I’m a profiler for the BAU but we can go anywhere, really. If there’s something that you’re interested in, they’d take us on in less than a heartbeat.”

“Between your alpha guide status, your profiling skills, and my senses, we could probably write our ticket in any federal agency,” Tony agreed. “It takes something special to get in the BAU.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed and let Tony pull him half in his lap.

“You’d give that up? For me? We’ve barely met.”

“I knew you were mine before I hit the door of the hotel,” Derek admitted. “I could feel your building distress three blocks away. Took me a minute to find you—my senses don’t work like yours—but I’m here now.”

“And you want to stay?” Tony asked, feeling but not looking vulnerable.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Derek promised. “I probably smell like JJ right now. I’ll need the Center to clean up my place before we settle in … if that’s where we choose to go.”

“I smell like Ziva,” Tony groused. “I hate it.”

“We’ll get you a shower as soon as possible,” Derek swore.

“JJ’s coming,” Tony told him, and he looked up to see JJ leave the hotel.

The other sentinels that had joined them followed her, dragging Tony’s old teammates behind them — they were in handcuffs. The Center would deal with them—they had violated the hell out of Tony’s rights as a sentinel  _ and  _ they had belligerently, deliberately failed in their duty to him as federal officers. They would be lucky to work as law enforcement of any flavor ever again.

Derek didn’t say anything about it though. Tony had to know what had happened in there — he was as much an alpha as Derek was. Since he didn’t bring it up, Derek assumed he didn’t want to talk about it.

“That was hot, by the way,” Tony said almost idly.

“What was?”

“Giving Gibbs what for back there,” Tony grinned, though it felt sad to Derek. He wondered how long his sentinel had been forced to hide what he was really feeling, like an abuse victim. It made him homicidal to even think about it. “I’ve never seen anyone make him back off like that. It was so hot.”

“Competence kink, huh?” Derek teased, refusing to get mad about the emotional input the sentinel was projecting in his distressed state.

They weren’t bonded. He had no right to touch or try to heal the other man’s empathic damage. He also didn’t have the right to push Tony to be entirely honest emotionally.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“That’ll make work awkward,” he joked and Tony laughed out loud. Even JJ snorted in amusement as she drove.

“Let’s talk about what we’re heading toward,” Derek redirected.

“You mean the Center?”

“Yes, your first-time intake can be challenging. I don’t want you to have any surprises.”

“Alright,” Tony nodded. “Hit me.”

“When we get there, we will be separated.”

Tony growled a little.

“It’s for the best,” Derek told him. “I need to shower off the world and so do you. I also need to meditate to relax my shields enough to facilitate the bond. Usually I’m all in on full deployment but … I’m a mess right now. I need to reassert my control over myself.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded.

“You will have a lot of questions to answer. Basic stuff — name, address, employment. We’re going to the Center closer to my place so the Center near the hotel should have Gibbs and company booked in and evaluated. There might be questions about that but it’s doubtful.”

“Okay.”

“A guide will be assigned to help you with that — a bonded guide. This is in case you develop touch issues and can’t use a pen or handle paper. They will also take a mouth swab to run through the system for biological matches.”

Tony pulled away from his neck for a moment to glare at him. “I don’t need any biological matches.”

“I..” he stopped himself from saying he didn’t want Tony to entertain any matches other than himself. If anyone heard him say that, it would be a disaster politically. As close as they worked to DC and especially within the FBI,  _ everything _ was political. They couldn’t afford such a risk. “We’re likely a very high match so I should come up early in the search.

“They’ll bring the list of the top ten. Anything beyond that will only be presented to you if you don’t find a satisfactory partner within those ten. If I’m not the top match, you owe it to yourself to at least look at the others.”

Tony made a disagreeing noise and bit his neck.

Derek’s breath caught in his throat and he brought a hand up to squeeze the back of Tony’s neck warningly. “Do not try to throw us into rut. JJ’s too delicate to be exposed to that.”

“Delicate?” Tony looked at his partner. JJ ignored him like a professional, putting on her blinker and taking the turn like she wasn’t getting the stare down from an alpha sentinel. Tony sniffed the air. “Pregnant?”

“Yes,” JJ answered. “My bonded guide and husband is out of state, testifying on a case in Louisiana.”

“He wasn’t supposed to,” Derek said to fill in a few blanks for Tony. “But his partner died and he’s the only one left to testify. They are trying to minimize his absence but there’s only so much they can do in a case that involved kidnapping, rape, and murder.”

“It’s messy,” JJ agreed. “And a pregnant sentinel is delicate in a lot of ways. Leaving my territory was determined to be more of a risk than separation from my guide since I’m close with my co-workers and there are several of our kind among them — my immediate pride.”

“That’s why a bonded sentinel is staying with you,” Tony realized.

“Yup. I’d prefer she stay with us once we are released to go home. Whether we stay at your place or mine.”

“You in a house?” Tony asked.

“Yes. I flip houses in my spare time, but last year I found one I couldn’t let go of and moved in.”

“I’m leasing a condo and the building is not sentinel safe. I’m fine to move. And I’ll deal with her staying with us. I wish I could promise I’d be fine but … I don’t know how bonding will work out.”

JJ snorted. “Neither of you need to worry. I’ve already texted Rossi. The team will be back in town tonight. I’ll be staying with him.”

“You don’t have to — ”

“It’s a done deal,” JJ interrupted Tony. “Don’t worry about it. Just make Derek happy and we will always be good.”

Tony tugged on Derek a bit but rather than pull him in, Tony cuddled himself closer. He met JJ’s eyes in the rearview and Derek could feel the weight in the air as Tony said, “I plan to.”


	8. Square: Found Family, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: Lady!Clint Barton/Steve Rogers

**Title** : Protecting Family   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : MCU   
**Genre** : Fix-it, Rule 63 (Girl!Clint Barton)   
**Relationships** : Clint Barton/Steve Rogers   
**Warnings** : Casual Sex, Safe Sex   
**Author’s Notes** : Girl!Clint still goes by Clint. This is my headcanon. If you don’t get it, feel free to read my Consultation Series, at least the first part—it explains it. This particular story is set after Age of Ultron but before Civil War.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Found Family/Family of Choice   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 2,095   
**Summary** : Clint does what she has to to protect her family. No matter the cost.

“God, Steve,  _ yes! _ ”

Steve growled and pounded into the woman below him with renewed vigor. Clint was the best thing about the future. The very best thing. She spoke  _ to _ him, not  _ about  _ him. She didn’t give a shit about his  _ place in history _ or when he was born. She absolutely  _ roasted _ him every time his ego started to get the best of him and she took his cock like she was born for it.

“Steve!” She clenched around him. “Steve!”

He squeezed her hips and moved his hands to her shoulders. He pushed her down until her strong archer’s arms gave in and she fell chest-first into the bed. She groaned heartily. He knew she loved it when he pushed her around in bed. They both did, it was the only time he got to use the excess of his strength outside of a superpowered fight.

Steve changed his rhythm from long, strong strokes to short, quick ones. He didn’t want to pull out too far. He loved being inside her when she came and experience told him that she would be soon. 

He gripped her hip with one hand and used the other to reach around the front of her body and flick her pretty little clit. “Are you gonna come for me, baby? Are you going to come on my cock?”

Her back arched and she screamed. He gasped and came with her.

Her callused hands gripped him firmly and he realized he’d lost some time. He was laying on his back beside her, his condom was gone.

“That was a good one,” she grinned.

“Everytime I think I’ve never come so hard in my life,” he admitted. “Then somehow the next time…”

Clint laughed at him. “You’re welcome.”

She moved away from him, not her usual so soon after sex. And—since she saw better at a distance—it was a sure sign she had something on her mind.

So, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I think…” Clint sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “I think you need to tell Tony.”

“Tell Tony what?” he asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I think you should tell Tony that Bucky might have been used to kill his parents.”

“Clint.” He stared at her in horror. Then he had to get off the bed. He just—he had to.

“I’ve seen the file, Steve.”

“Then you know Bucky killed his parents, killed his mom. Tony will never forgive that.”

“And you want to bring Bucky here anyway? Let him establish relationships with our team—with our family—under false pretenses?”

“I— Clint—” He started looking for his pants. He needed his fucking pants.

“No, Steve, stop.” She left the bed but she didn’t move closer to him. She actually moved further away, which was a strange sort of relief. “Think about it. You  _ know _ Tony. He’s practically your best friend. He knows about the mind control and the torture.

“You also don’t have any  _ proof _ .”

“Clint!” he objected. He wasn’t even sure why he objected. Or what he was objecting to. 

Why had he not left yet?

“No, Steve, you don’t. You have a record of thawings and freezings by date. It’s suggestive but it’s not  _ proof _ .”

He was panting for breath, his heart was racing—he didn’t even know why.

“Tony knows what it’s like to be a prisoner, Steve. He knows what it’s like to have your choices taken from you. He won’t—he’s not a risk to Bucky, if he  _ knows _ .”

“But?” Steve asked, strangled.

“But—Steve, if someone found proof and ambushed him with it…”

“You’re saying Tony’s unpredictable. That he  _ is  _ a danger to Bucky.”

“No, Steve,” Clint took a deep breath. “I’m saying that Tony has  _ PTSD _ . All of us do except you and...I don’t know, Banner? Maybe? We are all unpredictable—we’re all dangerous—when we’re startled and Tony’s parents are his weakness. If this...situation goes wrong—if any part of it goes wrong, it could destroy the team.”

He finally got his pants on and started to walk away. He couldn’t...he couldn’t have this conversation.

“Steve,” she called and he turned to face her. He knew he shouldn’t—he should just leave—but he couldn’t be so hateful to her. Not to Clint. She looked him straight in the face, there were tears shining in her eyes. “This is my only family, Steve. We  _ made  _ this a family, all of us, and I...I can’t let you kill it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But...I think this is why Mjolinr rejected you. Because you’re using Tony, and everything he has, without telling him something you know he would want to know.”

“I don’t care about Thor’s stupid hammer,” Steve said, conviction burning inside of him. “I care about Bucky.”

A tear broke loose and rolled down her cheek. “Don’t you wanna be the man Dr. Erskine knew you could be?”

That...was worse than a punch to the face. He turned and left immediately. He—he didn’t— Clint didn’t know what she was talking about, clearly. Her view of the team was warped. She saw them as a family and he knew her opinions of them could not be relied upon.

_ Bucky _ was his family. Bucky was all he had left in the world and Steve didn’t care what he had to do to get him back. 

With the team or without them.

-*-

Steve avoided Clint after that. He didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t know what to think. She’d always had his back before—kind of like a version of Bucky that he could fuck and not go to jail or get killed for it.

She had a friend come over that he had never met before. A very good friend because Steve had caught them sharing a kiss. It stung, a little bit, the thought that she had abandoned his whole gender over one argument. It was a very important argument and rather civilized, really but— Well, they’d made no promises to each other. They weren’t even dating, technically. They were just friends that fucked. Whatever she wanted to do, it was her right to do it.

Then Clint came to dinner the next night holding a familiar brown file folder under her arm. Steve’s gut froze.

“You know I’m on your side, right?” she said right to his face as her friend, Darcy, took the folder and walked out of his range. “I’d follow you through anything—but not this, Steve. This is too far.”

“What’s too far?” Tony asked as he grabbed a grape off the bar and tossed it in his mouth.

Clint turned to face Tony, giving Steve her back within the reach of his hand. That gave him pause. She...never let people stand so close to her back. No one other than Natasha in a fight or him—very rarely—during sex. She was...showing him trust even as she defied him, betrayed him. He didn’t know what to do with that.

“We think we might have found something out about Sergeant Barnes,” Clint said. “But it’s...hard.”

“Oh, god,” Tony grimaced. “Worse than the torture and the brainwashing?”

“Maybe?” Steve could hear Clint swallow. “I called his granddaughter, Darcy Lewis, to help decide who had the right to know it and...we agreed that it was best if we all knew this. But it mostly affects you so, you also get a vote in the...team knowing,” Clint waved a hand, “thing.”

“What is it?” Tony frowned and asked.

“Darcy?” They all turned to Clint’s...friend.

“Wait, granddaughter?” Steve asked.

“Hey, Uncle Steve,” Darcy shot him that same smart ass salute he’d gotten from Bucky at least twice a week during the war. The one that was more a  _ fuck you _ than any sort of acknowledgement or respect. “James Barnes knocked up Memaw—you might remember her as Connie Lewis?”

He nodded. He remembered the Stark Expo and...all of that.

“—just before he shipped out,” Darcy continues. “She had his son, my father, and obviously he fathered me. So, granddaughter.”

“Good to know beautiful breeds true,” Tony quipped and Darcy laughed. “What nightmare do you have to tell us?”

“Tell you, mostly,” Darcy corrected and laid the folder down on the dining room table. “This is book seventeen, part two, of  _ James Barnes Military Record of Service, Mobilization and Experiments, _ according to Hydra.”

“That...sounds terrible,” Tony decided.

“It is,” Bucky’s  _ granddaughter _ agreed. “Mostly, this particular folder is just a record of his freezings and de-frostings by date.”

“That’s a terrible way to put it!” Tony laughed reluctantly. 

Darcy stopped digging through the file and looked up at Tony. “What else would you call it?”

Tony considered that. “Alright, I’ll give it to you.”

Darcy nodded once and held up the papers from the folders in two different stacks. She waved the one in her right hand. “The originals Natasha managed to secure from fuck knows where—in Russian, not exactly helpful.” She dropped them back in the folder and held the other stack in both hands. “Translated from Russian. Clint and I both had them retranslated by separate linguists since we didn’t know and had no reason to trust the first translator considering how everything was all jumbled up with Hydra when the folder was first located.”

“And?” Tony prodded.

“And, this is my translation, provided by Doctor Abrams at NYU,” she pulled out one particular page and handed it to Tony.

Tony took it with a bemused look. “Is this supposed to tell me…” Tony trailed off with a frown.

“Yeah,” Darcy said gently. “It's supposed to tell you something.”

“He…” Tony choked. “Barnes was defrosted two days before…”

“Your parent’s died,” Darcy finished. “And refrozen three days later. It’s not proof but…”

“It’s suggestive,” Tony swallowed. “Do we have any proof?”

“We’re looking,” Clint said, stepping closer to Tony. “But, Hydra’s been hiding since World War II. If they don’t want us to find something…”

“And if they do want us to find it, we probably can’t trust it,” Tony said.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tony turned to look at him. “Steve, you’ve been searching for him from here for… months. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“...No,” Steve admitted reluctantly.

Tony looked devastated. “Why?”

“I was afraid.” Steve cleared his throat. “I  _ am _ afraid.”

“Of who?” Tony demanded.

Steve felt his mouth move but no words came out. He...he didn’t know what to say.

Clint looked between them. “Not of, Tony. For.” She gave Steve her big, beautiful  _ I believe in you  _ eyes. “Right, Steve?”

He nodded, he couldn’t deny it. “I...didn’t want to hurt you. And I’m scared. Bucky’s so damaged. The last time I saw him, he didn’t even know his own name and...he did all these terrible things. I just want him safe, Tony.”

“No,” Tony said fiercely.

“Tony…” Steve began, knowing he had no right to argue with Tony. If Tony decided to kick him out for this, it was completely justified.

“No,” Tony repeated. “Steve,  _ Bucky  _ did not do those things.”

Steve blinked. Tony couldn’t be saying what he thought he was saying.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes fell into a ravine and  _ died _ . The...construct Hydra built in his body was a weapon. I know weapons, Steve.” A tear rolled down Tony’s cheek but he ignored it.    
“No one knows them better than me—it is not the weapon’s  _ fault _ what the hand on the trigger did. 

“We have a chance to resurrect your friend and save my dad’s friend—and we’re going to fucking do it. You hear me?”

Steve staggered under the weight of his relief.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Tony said and turned away, “I’m…I need a minute.”

Tony fled and Steve sank to his knees. Was it really…was it really that easy? He put himself through all that worry and fear...for no reason?

Clint dropped to her knees beside him. “I’m not sorry. I had to protect our family.”

He blinked his eyes into focus and looked at her. “Okay.”

“I...I think Tony could love you. I don’t know what kind of love,” she hastened to defend her statement—like he had the brainpower to object. “But, you’re clearly important to him and if you had…” she hesitated.

“Betrayed him?” Steve offered even though he kind of felt that was what  _ she  _ had done to  _ him _ .

Clint tipped her head to one side. “I think it would have destroyed him. And Tony didn’t deserve that. 

“None of our family does.”


	9. Square: Courtship, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: Lady!Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

**Title** : Come Together   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : MCU   
**Genre** : Rule 63 (Girl!Clint Barton), Sentinels and Guides are Known   
**Relationships** : Clint Barton/Phil Coulson   
**Author’s Notes** : I’m playing with the idea of a longer Sentinel Clint/Guide Coulson, consider this the prequel.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Courtship   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 1,371   
**Summary** : Phil Coulson is a guide. Phil Coulson is asexual. No, he’s not broken. He’s just…different.

“Got you Tangy Thai Ribs and Chicken Pad Thai,” Clint announced as she placed the to-go boxes in question on his desk, maneuvering carefully around all the paperwork.

“And for yourself?” Phil asked as he set aside his pen with a small smile.

“Comfort food,” she pulled out the clear container holding over a  _ pint _ of soup. “Pumpkin and Coconut soup.”

Phil blinked at her. “Is something bothering you? That’s…I—It’s none of my business.”

“It kinda is,” she hedged as she popped off the top and picked up her spoon. “I…you do know we’re courting, right?”

“What?” Phil almost dropped his chopsticks in shock. No sentinel had ever expressed interest in him. He’d thought…well, he’d never thought one would because he was…well.

Clint raised a brow at him. “You accepted my gesture, Phil. I killed your enemy— _ you said the words _ .”

“Klaue,” he realized so belatedly he would be ashamed if he had the room for it. “That’s why no one said anything when you cut him in half.”

“He touched you.” Clint scowled. “He kidnapped you. He gave you  _ scars _ . He’s lucky the international code of conduct limited me, or he’d had spent his last week praying for death.”

“And no one could censure you because of courting protocols.” Phil gave up on the chopsticks and grabbed a fork. He stabbed some rib meat that had fallen off the bones and sat back. “What else have you done?”

“Provided food.”

Phil thought about it and looked over the spread on the table. Clint had been bringing him food at work two or three times a week as their schedules allowed for months—specifically since she had killed Klaue. She’d even brought him the best corn and clam chowder he’d ever had—better even than his mom’s.

He had been eighty percent sure she’d actually made it—now he was positive she had.

“Granted,” he agreed.

“Enforced your personal space.”

“That’s why Sitwell hasn’t been in my office since…”

“Since Klaue?” Clint smirked. “Yeah. Also, why Fury calls you up to a conference room to talk rather than cornering you in one office or the other.”

“What’s next?” he asked. He’d…honestly, he’d blocked out the Courting Protocols he’d been taught in guide training. Once he’d accepted that he was ace, he’d assumed a sentinel would never pursue him or indulge his pursuit of them.

“Next you would invite me into your space and to see if we suit outside of work,” she frowned. “But other than your acceptance, you haven’t given me any signals that you’re even interested.”

Lead settled in his stomach.

“I mean, you’ve only smelled of desire  _ once _ and I’m not even sure it was for me. I mean, you were looking at me but…humans smell of all kinds of things all the time.”

Oh, god. This was going to get humiliating. “Have you ever smelled desire on me?”

“Once or twice,” she tipped her head to one side. “Only once that…do you…not?”

She looked antsy so he pushed away from his desk and leaned back in his chair, signaling her permission to sit in his lap. For once in her damn life, Clint Barton did not have to be told twice—she practically teleported into his space.

“Not usually,” he admitted as he settled his hands on her hips. “I do have a sex drive. And while I usually…take care of it myself, I don’t mind sharing that on occasion.”

“Huh,” she tucked her head into his neck, nuzzling his pulse point. “So, if you could tell me what I did last week…?”

Phil huffed. “After you killed McGuire? With your bare hands. You came back to me—back to base—caked in mud with his blood on your face. Your hair was loose around your head…”

“He knocked my helmet off, I told you!” she objected. “He grabbed my braid and tried to use it to…”

“To control you, to stop you,” Phil supplied, pulling her closer. “But you cut it off, sacrificed your pride and joy to finish the mission. To protect the tribe.

“You had this feral light in your eyes and I…I wanted to taste you.”

Clint shivered and grinned up at him, “You have a danger boner!”

“Clint,” he chided.

“No, really, you do! And of course, I’m perfect for that. I’m on the record for the youngest feral episode in the last two hundred years.”

He sobered at that. He knew going feral for the first time before she even started school—and the fact that she’d held the feral edge for years—had affected Clint’s brain chemistry in terrifying ways. She had less tolerant boundaries on what she considered a threat to the Tribe and was faster to permanently end such threats than even most alpha sentinels.

He couldn’t deny that he found her hard and fast standards attractive but… “I hate that you had to kill your father.”

“I’m not,” Clint rolled her eyes. “I saved my mother and brother. They are each worth ten of him.

“But back to us,” she poked him in the chest. “Do you want to bond? Not with me, per se, but to anyone? Do you want one at all?”

“Of course, I do,” he admitted roughly. “I have that…hard empty place inside me that every unbonded guide does. A sentinel bond is the only thing that will help that. Not even having my gifts deactivated by a shaman would put an end to that.”

“You asked?” she questioned carefully.

“Last year,” he admitted. “I didn’t think a sentinel would ever want me because…I can’t do sex multiple times a day like most guides. A few times a month, probably. Multiple times a day would…kill me. Be very uncomfortable. Alpha Sandburg took my concerns seriously. He answered all my questions and told me to give it six months. If I hadn’t changed my mind in six months, he would make himself available to help me.”

“And?”

“And,” Phil sunk his fingers into her hair and made her look at him. “Not a month later, I was sent on a recruitment mission. This sentinel had been borrowed from the Marines by agency after agency and Deputy Director Fury wanted her for himself.”

He could feel hope swell inside Clint’s chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It took me a while to track her down. When I did, she turned my world upside down, but she was so…much. She was everything from the first day I met her, but I never thought I could be more than her handler. So, I made sure Fury made me her handler and I told myself it would be enough.”

“And now?”

“And now, I think we should finish our dinner. And tomorrow, you should come for dinner at my place.”

Clint’s entire body lit up, her grin practically  _ glowed _ . Then she leaned back and tipped her head to one side. “Do you know what you just offered me? In terms of our courting?”

“Not a clue,” he admitted.

Rather than be offended, Clint laughed. “I’ll let you read up on it, then.”

“No hints?”

“Not one,” she snickered.

“Your spirit guide is a coyote, isn’t it?”

Clint snorted. “No.”

“A fox?”

Clint shook her head at him, laughing outright once again.

“A raven?”

“Nope!”

“Some sort of trickster, it’s gotta be.”

“My spirit guide is a very well-rounded individual,” she said with something approaching dignity. “And since we’re so well rounded, I’ll let you confirm whether you still want me to come over tomorrow when you send me your address.”

“Alright.” He waited and Clint grabber her soup from the far side of the desk and curled up around it in his lap. “You want any of this?” he asked as he picked up his fork and poked at his ribs.

“Normally, I’d be all for it,” she admitted, and he snorted. She’d been stealing his ribs for so long, he always ordered double now. “But my stomach is delicate when I’m menstrual. Liquid calories are the only happy calories—you know, once a month.”

“I will remember.” It was surprisingly comfortable, eating dinner with a full-grown sentinel in his lap. “I make a killer baked potato soup.”

She smiled brightly up at him. “I look forward to it.”


	10. Square: Best Life, Fandom: Game of Thrones, Pairing: past-Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game of Thrones with some ASOIAF and Fan Theories to fill in the gaps

**Title** : Paid in Full   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : Game of Thrones/ASOIAF   
**Genre** : Alternate Universe   
**Relationships** : past-Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister   
**Warnings** : Major Character Death (King Aerys the Mad)   
**Author’s Notes** : There is a fan theory that the Defiance of Duskendale was planned by Tywin Lannister—with Lord Denys Darklyn and  _ maybe  _ Prince Rhaegar—as a multi-layered plan to assassinate Aerys the Mad for his rape of Joanna that lead to her death when she gave birth to maybe-Aerys’s son Tyrion. Unfortunately, that plan was thwarted by Ser Barristan proving the name Prince Duncan Targaryen had given him at the ripe old age of ten to be true. That ain’t gonna happen this time. We’re leaving Barristan the Bold at home.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Best Life   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 2,412   
**Summary** : Tywin Lannister lives his best life.

“I received a raven,” King Aerys drawled, staring at him pointedly.

Tywin stared right back, holding his gaze, not even bothering to acknowledge the rest of the Small Council as they entered the chamber for their meeting. He was certain they were all surprised to see the Mad King present.

Tywin wasn’t. He’d expected some sort of foolishly dramatic response to his denial of Lord Darklyn’s petition. Aerys’s foolishly dramatic response was entirely  _ the point _ .

“Can you interact with my lords without offending them and leaving me with a war to fight over your behavior?” Aerys asked mildly. “I find I have to ask—for my peace of mind and your placement as Hand, you see.”

“Lord Darklyn has refused to pay his just taxes,” Tywin told the King. “He is demanding independence, to be elevated to the same rank and privileges as  _ Dorne _ .”

“Lord Darklyn is not an unreasonable man,” Aerys countered. “Duskendale was the seat of Kings before there ever was a Seven Kingdoms.”

“So was Winterfell,” Tywin countered. “And Harrenhal, and the Erie, Highgarden, and Casterly Rock. Are you going to give all the former lines of kings their independence? You won’t have much of a kingdom left, if you do.”

Aerys blithely ignored his very valid point. “He would settle for a cut to his taxes because they are causing his people distress. I don’t see why his taxes cannot be cut—unless your management of my Realm is failing, Lord Lannister.”

Tywin very carefully didn’t mention how lowered taxes in Duskendale would increase their trade—reducing business and revenue for King’s Landing. As the king, Aerys should already  _ know that _ .

“Fine,” he agreed stiffly. “If you wish to negotiate with this fool, demand he come to you—with proof of this suffering his people are experiencing.”

“It would be more effective to go to Duskendale and see the issues for myself.”

“A king does not do the bidding of his lords,” Tywin reminded him. “He must come to you.”

“I’m going,” Aerys said in a tone that brokered no argument. Good.

“In that case, I insist you take the entire Kingsguard and no less than a battalion of the Crown’s Army. For your own safety.”

“Such a force would heavily tax the resources on an already straining keep—”

“Supposedly straining,” Tywin cut the king off to correct, “we have seen no proof of it.”

Aerys’s eye flashed with temper. “Lord Darklyn is no threat to me. He’s asking me for a favor. I will take Ser Gwayne with me. The rest of the Kingsguard will remain here.

“Lord Commander Hightower, you and Ser Barristan will be personally in charge of my wife, the Queen’s, security while I am away. She is not to leave the Holdfast and neither will you until my return. Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell will attend the security of my heir, Rhaegar. Ser Jonothor and Ser Harlan that of Viscerys. Are my orders in anyway unclear to you?”

“No, my king,” Lord Commander bowed his head briefly. “When do you plan to leave?”

“Pycelle will send a raven, accepting Lord Darklyn’s invitation on my behalf—today, Archmaester.”

“As you will, my king,” Pycelle agreed easily enough.

“I will give him a week and then follow the raven. I expect you to hand pick the men guarding my retinue, Hightower. Thirty should do it.”

“Of course, my king. Would you like the list for your approval?”

“Yes, you have two days.”

“Yes, my king.”

Aerys went back to staring at him and Tywin was hard pressed not to roll his eyes. He had heard bootlickers and lickspittles say that the Gaze of the Dragon was hard to bear but that had never been his experience.

“Anything else, Lord Tywin?”

“No, my king. I believe that is all the business to be brought before the Council.”

“Good.”

Tywin had to agree. It was good.

-*-

“My Lord Hand.” Pycelle approached the Iron Throne as Tywin sat upon it, holding court in Aerys’s place and being all the more productive for the sake of the Realm for it.

“Archmaester.” He acknowledged the man with a nod.

“There has been a raven, my lord. From Duskendale.” Pycell held up the small scroll, still sealed with Lord Darklyn’s sigil.

This would be the letter, then. Exactly one month after Aerys left King’s Landing. Tywin stood from his seat and descended the stairs to accept the missive.

He wondered idly if Lord Darklyn had taken Aerys at dinner like he had told him to or if he had acted prematurely. Lord Darklyn was not, actually, the boldest of fellows. If he had been overzealous—and Tywin had to accept he might have been—there would have been a number of unnecessary deaths among the king’s men at arms.

He unrolled the scroll under the watchful eyes of the court. He kept his joy off his face without a struggle thanks to habit more than diligence. The debt Tywin owed Aerys for the rape and death of his beloved wife, Joanna, would soon be paid.

Darklyn had captured the king with only one death, that of Ser Gwayne. He was threatening to kill the king if his demands were not met.

“Fetch my armor,” he ordered his squire and the boy left the throne room at a run. Then he turned to Lord Commander Hightower, “Muster the Army. We ride for Duskendale at dawn.”

“Lord Hand,” Gerold Hightower took a step closer to the throne. “What has happened?”

“Lord Denys Darklyn has assured his own death—he has taken King Aerys captive and slain Ser Gwayne. He is demanding all of his terms met and the stakes are the king’s life.”

“Then we have much to prepare, will you call the banners?”

“Come,” he ordered the Lord Commander as he left the throne room in favor of the Tower of the Hand.

“I wish to evaluate Duskendale myself before calling the Great Houses to the cause,” he told Ser Gerold confidentially. “The ten thousand we have on hand may be enough to overrun Duskendale should it prove necessary. We have no evidence of a larger conspiracy to rebel.”

“The Great Houses will have to be told something.”

“And they will,” Tywin promised. “The ravens will leave before I do.”

“I would prefer to come with you,” Lord Commander Hightower told him baldly and Tywin just bet he did. Only the Hand of the King could command the Kingsguard in the king’s absence. He was the only man that could override the Mad King’s order to remain with the Queen and allow him to assist in the recovery of the king.

Unfortunately for Ser Gerold, King Aerys’s successful recovery was the last of Tywin’s goals.

“No,” he flatly refused. “There would be hell to pay if something were to happen to the queen or the heirs while we were all focused on Aerys’s recovery.”

“No one will come for the King,” Ser Gerold argued. “You said there was no evidence of a conspiracy.”

“Aegon the First was confident no one would come for him, either but one of his own wives fought off assassins twice before he allowed her to form the Kingsguard,” Tywin countered. “You know this.”

Ser Gerold frowned but conceded the point. “The Crown and the Kingsguard must be represented in the resolution of this incident. To do otherwise would…it would be a scandal. Especially if something goes wrong.”

“Be easy,” Tywin ordered. “I had planned for Prince Rhaegar to accompany me, and with him Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell. The Crown and the Kingsguard will be well represented by them.”

“Prince Rhaegar is a levelheaded lad.” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard relaxed. “His arms and command training has been second to none.”

Tywin knew Rhaegar’s training had been top notch. He’d been in charge of it, after all. Aerys used to be his friend and very comfortable companion—but he had never known what to do with a child, much less the legacy of Aegon the Conqueror and Tywin, as his Hand, had stepped in.

Still, he nodded. “Agreed.”

“Be well, Lord Tywin,” Ser Gerold said as they stopped together before the main entrance of the Tower of the Hand. “And make the best decisions you can. For the Realm.”

“For the Realm,” he agreed and turned away from the Lord Commander.

Maybe Hightower wasn’t as blind as Tywin thought.

-*-

“We attack at dawn,” Tywin ordered as the commanders of the forces gathered at the Siege of Duskendale joined him in his tent.

“Lord Darklyn swore he would kill the king if we stormed Duskendale,” Lord Admiral Velaryon objected.

Tywin was tempted to point out that they had a better king than Aerys the Mad, just waiting to take the Throne in Prince Rhaegar. Lord Velaryon couldn’t have missed the man’s presence, standing across the table from him, looking like a mirror with the pure Valyrian features both houses shared.

It would tip his hand, however. He couldn’t afford that with success a mere day away.

“This siege has lasted six months,” Tywin said slowly. As though he were talking to his son. “It has exploded beyond all reasonable bounds. There are armies and ships here from all Seven Kingdoms. Food rolling in by the ton from the Reach and the Riverlands.”

“The Crown has two heirs,” Lord Rickard Stark spoke up with his Northern Pragmatism. “A grown man and a spare. It’s a balance of costs, now and in the future. Nothing but putting down Darklyn’s Defiance with prejudice will serve the future peace of the Realm. We have the opportunity to make an example of Duskendale and ensure that no lord will be foolish enough to try such as this again.”

“Prince Rhaegar will have to lead the battle,” Lord Steffon Baratheon of Storm’s End offered. “If we’re going to send the proper message to future lords.”

“And I will. No stone will be left upon another,” Prince Rhaegar swore with no prompting. “Darklyn took my father, has abused him and brought the Realm to a stop for half a year. No one will survive within the walls of Duskendale. The remains will be burned to ash and the lands salted.

“No one will live in Duskendale ever again.”

-*-

Tywin kept himself at young Rhaegar’s side the next morning.

His command style was usually to stand in the back upon a height to make the best strategic decisions possible for his army, but nothing—nothing—was going to deprive him of watching the light fade in Aerys’s eyes. He wanted to  _ watch _ the debt between them be paid.

Even if—for the sake of Joanna’s honor—no one but him would ever know the debt existed. He would know. And he would know it was paid. For Joanna.

Prince Lewyn and Prince Rhaegar’s friend Arthur Dayne the Sword of Morning stayed with them, as well as Robert Baratheon even though he was just fifteen years old. Rheagar and Arthur were whirling towers of death, using a sword in either hand—the show-offs. Lewyn’s spear was running with red and Tywin almost pitied Baratheon the trauma that cleaning his warhammer would bring.

Another fifteen-year-old, Brandon Stark, wasn’t far behind them. He carried a great axe, which was unusual for a Stark. If Tywin were a superstitious man, such an oddity would worry him but—

It was good, honestly, for the entire Realm that Rhaegar had managed to earn the dedication of the heirs of two Great Houses before he had even ascended to the Throne. Tywin just hoped that dedication wouldn’t go too far and lead  _ three _ Great Houses into situations he would have to resolve as Hand of the King.

They broke through the final barriers between them and the Duskhall—finally, finally.

Tywin, Rhaegar, and Lewyn worked their way up one side of the great table that bisected the wall. Arthur led Robert and Brandon up the other side.

They were steps away from the High Table at the end of the hall when they stopped. Lord Darklyn had Aerys at the point or a large knife.

“Let him go, Darklyn,” Rhaegar demanded.

“So, you can execute me?” Darklyn scoffed. “I want ten thousand Gold Dragons and a clear path to my ship. We will set sail, and no one will follow. Once I’m free, in Essos, I’ll send your king back to you—in one piece.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Darklyn,” Tywin interjected. “Your ship has burned. Everything under your flag has been put to the torch.”

“One of yours then!”

“You know there is no getting out of this for you.” Rhaegar took half a step forward and Darklyn pulled the sword closer to Aerys’s throat, making him bleed. “Darklyn,” Rhaegar repeated but did not step either closer or back. “Leave this madness and I swear your death will be quick.”

“You will—” Whatever the Lord of Duskendale has to say was cut off. He startled as more men rushed into Duskhall. He pulled King Aerys further back towards the far wall, very near to cornering himself. The man was clearly past thinking.

Rhaegar held up a hand without taking his eyes off of Lord Darklyn. “Halt!”

Before the men could stop—or Rhaegar finish the command—Darklyn slit Aerys’s throat. In quick succession, Ser Arthur severed Darklyn’s elbow—sending the limb and knife flying, Prince Rhaegar stabbed his sword into Darklyn’s left eye, and Prince Lewyn’s spear sank into the man’s chest.

Tywin took a moment to stare at Aerys as he gurgled his own blood from two holes and the light fled his eyes. Aerys was dead. Joanna’s rapist and murder was dead.

…and now Tywin could move on. Almost five years in the making, and it was done.

Rhaegar would marry his daughter and make her queen. The Realm was safe. Peace was assured—new treaties and friendships had blossomed across all of the Seven Kingdoms during the siege. Soon they would have a good king that he had trained himself sitting on the throne. His grandson would one day wear the crown, ensuring his legacy would thrive for centuries beyond himself.

His family—Joanna’s family—would thrive.

Prince Rhaegar clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to face his…king.

Tywin took the lad’s hand and held it aloft, bloody sword and all. “The King is dead. Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!” every voice in the hall shouted back and it echoed back from beyond even the keep. “Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!”

The debt was paid in full.


	11. Square: Enemies to Lovers, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: Lady!Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini

**Title** : For Love   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : Harry Potter   
**Genre** : First Time, Rule 63 (Girl!Harry Potter)   
**Relationships** : Hari Potter/Blaise Zabini   
**Warnings** : Ritual Sex, Unsafe Sex   
**Author’s Notes** : 1.) I use the movie cast for Blaise Zabini, Louis Cordice, but my fancast for Girl!Hari is Emeraude Toubia. 2.) The Longbottom Method is a magical reproduction method invented by the House of Longbottom. It can only be used by the House of Longbottom or with their specific permission. It’s Cabbage Patch babies, basically. I came up with it for my old-ass unfinished project Oathbound which can be found on the Wild Hare Project. 3.) I am totally using the magical classifications from Mercedes Lackey’s Heralds of Valdemar set because it amused me. #SorryNotSorry   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Enemies to Lovers   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 4,858   
**Summary** : Hari Potter asked him for a favor. Blaise Zabini decided he would do it...for a chance. For love.

“You want me to what?” Blaise asked, just to be sure he had heard her correctly. He couldn’t have  _ possibly _ heard her correctly.

“I want you to participate in a sex ritual with me,” Hari Potter said like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like they weren’t cordial enemies or political rivals or however they felt like describing the relationship they had developed since the war.

“To do what, exactly?”

“I’m making a Head Ring for the Potter Duchy. The Queen granted me the peerage—it has magical weight  _ and  _ it’s hereditary, so it needs a ring for, you know, my descendants going forward.”

“I didn’t know ring magic was still around,” he hedged to buy himself time.

“Gringotts has been very helpful,” she explained.

Blaise snorted. The Bank was rarely helpful but who could blame them? Wizardingkind had been ruining things for the Bank for thousands of years.

Hari smiled. “Honestly, they have. I received three different texts on the matter—one of which was written by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. It was her process I chose to use at first because she was a witch, but also because her process required the materials I had already selected. It was the obvious choice but it calls for a layering of rituals—with both coven or conclave and by yourself.”

“You have a coven?” he asked.

“Conclave, technically.” She shrugged at his shocked look. “Parselmagic is gender neutral so I have witches and wizards in my private magic clique. Coven is, by definition, witches only—so, conclave.”

“I didn’t know that,” Blaise admitted.

“Yes, well. Most people don’t.” Hari shook herself and refocused. “I have one ritual left to complete the ring and it’s a sexual ritual. It’s supposed to be done with a Lady and her Consort, but I have no Consort so I’m asking you.”

Blaise frowned. “To be your Consort?”

“No—well, I wouldn’t be opposed, per se, if you wanted to go there but all I’m asking for right now is a ritual.”

“You don’t want to ask Longbottom?” Blaise had to ask. “Or a Weasley? You were close with them at school.”

“To be my Consort or to fuck me in a ritual?”

“Either.”

“Well,” she drawled. “Neville would actually be a great choice as consort, and I’ve heard he’s a great fuck, but he’s betrothed to my sister in magic. I’m not going to ask Hermione to watch her future husband fuck me with our ritual circle. No way, that would be completely terrible.”

“You— Hermione—? What?”

“Well, yeah. They’ve been stupidly in love for years but there was a contract between his House and mine that I couldn’t release him from so he could marry her. I took her into my house as my little sister so she could take my place in a marriage she very much desired. She got parselmagic from me—which was one of the reasons the contract was written between our families, honestly, to pass parselmagic around—and they signed their acceptance of the contract. They’ll get married next year.”

“And House Weasley?”

Hari rolled her eyes. “Hermione and I had barely managed to even be civil to Ron both fifth and sixth year.”

“He was a bit of a twat when your name came out of the Goblet,” Blaise admitted.

“Just a bit,” Hari agreed in a tone that made it clear it was a very big deal to her. “That year I bonded Winky to keep her from dying after her previous master was an  _ asshole _ and realized I had a bond with Dobby too, they, uh—the two of them stopped a number of potions from making their way into mine and Hermione’s food. We had the potions analyzed and, well, we decided it was better in the long term to pretend we had been dosed rather than make them find another way to manipulate us.

“So, we did. At least until Dumberdore was dead and Hermione and I took off on our secret mission during seventh year.”

“Weasley didn’t go with you? He never came back to Hogwarts.”

“We tolerated him for a while,” Hari admitted. “But we kicked him out of the tent pretty quick and took care of it ourselves. He lived the easy life at his brother’s cottage so he wouldn’t have to face his mum or go back to school.”

“But he died in the war!”

“Died in the war, my ass.” Hari snorted. “I killed him.”

“Huh.” Blaise wished he could be surprised she was confessing murder to him but there was no way he could tell anyone about it. They had made privacy vows to each other before they started the conversation. And besides, the Wealeys had become her vassals after the war. She had every right to punish them however she saw fit. “Because of the potions?”

“They were dosing us up to our eyeballs with obedience, loyalty, and attraction.” Hari pursed her lips together. “For both of us. After the war was over and I announced the claiming of my titles, I called the Weasley family together. They are a cadet branch of Gryffindor, did you know?”

“Yeah,” Blaise nodded.

“And my mother was the Heir of Gryffindor. She didn’t get to claim it because of the war but I claimed it privately after the first round of potions analysis came back. Took the Head’s ring for myself and put the heir ring on Hermione’s finger—for further protection. In case something got past the elves.”

Blaise nodded.

There had been a lot of upheaval in the House Weasley during the war. Most only knew about the vassal thing and wrote off the deaths as losses to the war—but Molly, Ron and Percival had died. Arthur had passed his headship to his eldest son, William, who had in turn claimed the Barony of Hogsmeade and sworn himself as vassal to Hari Potter herself. The second son, Charles, had married—much to everyone’s surprise. He and his wife, Nymphadora, already had a son. The twins were both in the marriage market, looking for spouses that would honor their, and in turn Hari’s, House.

And none of them specifically discussed their losses during the war.  _ Ever _ .

“And you’re the Lady of Slytherin through Conquest.”

“Right but most of those cadet lines died in Riddle’s first war. He wouldn’t tolerate any  _ competition _ .”

“I guess I don’t understand,” Blaise admitted. “Why me?”

“You’re the closest thing I have to...an equal. Politically, I mean. You’re the only other person in the entire Wizengamot with more than one title.”

And that was true enough. After the war, when he had told Hari he was Sirius Black’s biological son and that he wanted to take over Headship of his paternal house, she hadn’t fought it. She had been Black’s legal and magical heir. She could have made it impossible for him to even officially  _ join _ his father’s magical house, but all she had required was a blood test from Gringotts. Once she had witnessed the test, she had welcomed him to the magical House of Black.

There had been an Unbreakable Vow required before she would enter the ritual circle with him to let him assume the Black Headship but considering the number of highly coveted magical houses she had in her grip, he couldn’t blame her for it.

Once he had taken the Headship of House Black the titles of the cadet lines—Malfoy, Lestrange, and Parkinson—had fallen on him like a stack of bricks.

He wasn’t exactly her equal, but he was as close as she had. And they both knew he had never bowed to her whims. Not in any circumstances. Even if one counted his Claiming of House Black, he rarely complied with her without a long, drawn out discussion.

“What if I wanted to become your Consort?”

Hari raised an eyebrow at him. “You realize that due to my magical circumstances you would become part of  _ my _ magical domain rather than the usual opposite. Right?”

That was…kind of hot, actually. “As long as I keep my peerages for myself.”

“Oh, sure.” She waved him off absently. “Not like I don’t have enough of my own.”

“We would have to become allies. Align our houses across the board politically,” he warned her. “Even political strife between us could damage or destroy our marriage bond.”

“If you explain your reasoning for your choices, I promise to do the same. I’ll research your stance and—as a muggle-raised person, I’m entirely used to changing my beliefs based on new evidence. Something very few magical-raised people I know have ever managed.”

Blaise laughed because that was certainly true enough. “My mother has never tolerated such people. I can have a civilized logical discussion and change my mind as well.”

She shot him a look that said she clearly didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her for that. They had gotten into it quite…passionately a few times within their magical country’s ruling body. Never name calling or anything like that but…things had been heated.

“Why did you allow me to take the Black Family magic off your hands?” he found himself asking.

Hari blew out a breath gustily. “All of Voldemort’s Marked followers died with him.”

Blaise nodded. He knew that. He had been there, fighting against the Death Eaters in defense of the school. Bigotry and oppression would always lose in the end and while he had hated to fight against friends or the family of friends he had refused to go down on the wrong side of history.

“He used their magic to heal himself every time I caused him significant injury during our duel.” She scrubbed a tired hand across her eyes. “If I had known he had burrowed so deeply into their magic, I would have taken their bonds from him before killing him—”

“You would?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes, of course. No one deserved to have their core destroyed by a madman—especially not the children that were just doing what their parents had forced them to do. Of course, at that point, I hadn’t studied parselmagic at all. So while  _ now _ I know I could have taken them and resolved the magical bonds into vassalhood, at that point it was beyond me.

“Looking back, their magic called for me. The Marks begged me to help their witches and wizards but the only way I knew to do that was to kill him.”

“I blame Dumbledore for that,” Blaise admitted.

Hari nodded. “I do too.

“As to your question—when Old Voldie died, I was hit like a truck by his various followers’ family magic. I had gained them all through Conquest and they were all dependent on me to survive. While it’s entirely likely that that influx of supportive family magics was what kept me alive after that duel, it was also a burden. The different magics pulled me every which way, there was no way I could satisfy them all and betraying any of them would have killed all of them.

“And probably me as well,” she admitted softly.

He swallowed hard but nodded his understanding.

“I reached out to the Bank and asked them to start chasing down bloodlines. They notified a number of magicals of all ages and blood statuses that their family magic was waiting to be claimed and sent them information about the rituals necessary to claim them.

“The Bank was able to do it without naming me at all due to the conditions of the end of the war and since I wasn’t publically connected to any of those magics.

“I allowed anyone that was bold enough to  _ take _ headship of a family’s magic to do so.”

He nodded. He remembered that—hadn’t understood it but remembered the sudden influx of new lords and ladies into the Wizengamot. Old names wearing new faces.

All of the people she had allowed to take up a piece of her burden were dedicated to the places she had given them within the magical world, whether any of them knew of her involvement or not. Blaise couldn’t help but think she had made the right choices even though he knew he could never have been strong enough to give up the sheer level of domination she would have enjoyed had she managed to navigate all of the familial magics and the attendant Wizengamot votes that she had received.

“Why did I get Parkinson with Black?” Blaise asked. “Malfoy and Lestrange, I understand, but Parkinson?”

“Draco was betrothed to Pansy.” She laughed at the face he pulled at that news. “Their family magics were in the process of merging—and I couldn’t stand that witch in life, so when I felt Malfoy leaving with Black, I pushed Parkinson off on you as well. Sorry, not sorry.”

He snorted and shook his head. “She was a horror.”

“Are you serious about becoming my Consort?” she asked him.

He took a moment to think about it. “Yes, I think I am.”

“Then you should know that I plan to create an heir for every family magic I still control. Neville promised me I could use the Longbottom method to do so and even volunteered to be the second biological donor as long as Hermione didn’t mind—which she said she doesn’t.”

“How many children is that?”

“Four. Eight if we include yours, though one of them already lives.”

Blaise blinked. “You’ve had a child?”

“Of course not,” Hari scoffed. “I’m a virgin. Voldemort and Bellatrix had a child, a daughter. Euphemia Rowle tried to sell her to me after she blew through the stupid amount of money she had been paid to take the girl in in the first place. For the girl’s safety, I paid her to go away and then I sued the  _ shite  _ out of her.”

“For defrauding the Black Family Trust,” he recalled. He hadn’t understood it at the time, but the procedure had been handled privately by the Bank. “She went to Azkaban when she couldn’t pay the fines that were levied against her.”

“She didn’t have any right to keep a daughter of House Black from me,” Harry said simply. “I was the Matriarch of Black  _ and _ the Matriarch of Slytherin. No one had a right to that little girl but me. The goblins determined that Rowle was essentially guilty of kidnapping the child after both of her parents were dead. She had no legal right to the  _ ransom _ she had demanded of me.”

“Where is the girl now?”

“Her name is Delphini and she is in stasis. My conclave is working to fix the problems with her magic her parents caused. Voldemort because he was a sick, dark bastard and Bellatrix by betraying her marriage vows. Even if Lestange gave her permission, she was an adulterer that cuckolded him and that had long term magical ramifications on her bastard.”

“No child deserves such a fate,” Blaise said.

“Agreed. Once we’ve cleansed and healed her, I will adopt her in blood and magic. I will take her father’s place biologically and magically—we’ve already designed the ritual for it—and upon her thirtieth birthday she will assume her father’s true inheritance as the Countess of Slytherin.”

“Will you tell her of her true parentage?” he questioned.

“I feel I must, though I’m not sure how,” Hari admitted. “It will wait until she’s older. We’re not even sure how long it will take to heal her, but I refuse to let her suffer under their darkness. She’s been in stasis in a dragon guarded vault for years at this point. It’s the most security I could provide her, and her head healer is one of only three people that knows where it is. Her healer checks on her every day.”

“I agree with your choice in that regard,” he told her. “She’s a child. Their crimes are not her fault.”

Hari studied him for several moments and nodded. “I’ll have Winky bring us a Potter Marriage Contract, shall I? We can discuss it and make plans at our leisure.”

Their choice to align was rather abrupt but Blaise found he didn’t mind, so he nodded. “Sounds good.”

-*-

Hari Potter’s private ritual circle was in the Chamber of Secrets.  _ The Chamber of bloody Secrets! _

Salazar Slytherin’s sacred place was more than just a ritual circle though. There was a grand entrance hall that was brightly lit and so clean it shined. It was charming though Blaise could just imagine how creepy the snake motif could be if the lights were even a bit dimmer.

There was a rough rock wall at the far end that made Blaise wonder if a carving of some kind had been blasted off and replaced with a waterfall feature.

“This way,” Hari said as she led him over to the right from where the portkey had deposited them.

“Is the school magically shielded from this place?” he asked her.

“Or course,” she glanced back at him with a frown. “Slytherin himself laid the protections in the foundation as the school was built and they are very sturdy. We refreshed them in our first ritual, of course, but…how else do you think Tom Riddle made a horcrux while  _ in the school _ without anyone being the wiser?”

Blaise…didn’t have anything he could say to that. “You’ve cleaned the ritual chamber then?”

“Of course,” she repeated as she led him into the side chamber. “This is the cleansing room, we cannot enter the ritual room until we make use of it.”

“I remember,” he agreed and started to strip. As a member of the conclave rather than the leader, he wouldn’t even be allowed to take his wand within. All magic and magical devices on his person would remain magically secured for the course of the ritual since he couldn’t even call a house elf past these wards.

As one of the two primary performers of a sexual ritual, he wouldn’t even have a ritual robe to wear.

He didn’t mind being naked, though, and watching Hari Potter strip was a treat. He had had no idea she wore leather armor under her clothes, and he wondered if it was dragonhide or if perhaps she had gotten it from the basilisk it was rumored to have killed as a second-year.

She physically shook herself and he could actually  _ see _ the magic fall away from her body. He knew she made use of cosmetic charms and had secretly, vindictively, assumed she had some permanent scar she was ashamed of.

She did have scars, particularly across her back. She had what looked to be whipping scars but there had been no magic hiding them.

She turned to face him and swallowed nervously.

“You are the most magical person I have ever seen,” he said softly in awe.

And she was. Her jade green eyes had become a brighter, poisonous shade with a black horizontal stripe made of dots he could see even over the distance between them. They were slitted too, like a snake’s.

Her hair was long, longer than her cosmetic charms had shown—falling past her butt rather than just past her shoulders. And she had a thick, solid white forelock.

That gave him pause. The only way a magical person of her age would have white hair like that was from accessing node magic but… By the oldest of scales, over ninety-nine percent of modern magicals were classified as Journeymen because they could only use the magic generated from their cores.

Naturally, the modern magical world had created a new scale to measure the size of an individual’s magical core because humans were terrible and always wanted to be better than someone else for foolish reasons. As a result, most magicals didn’t believe there was anyone that had magic beyond that of a Journeyman.

Of course, then you got magicals like Albus Dumbledore or Gellert Grindlewald who were by that ancient scale considered Masters that could tap into leylines.

Voldemort had faked being a Master through his use of the Dark Mark which allowed him control beyond his own core. The mastery of his followers’ magic was still publicly thought to be the use of leyline magic, which had placed him on the level of Dumbledore though on the dark end of the spectrum.

His followers’ deaths were largely blown off as a mystery—Blaise thought maybe that should change. That the public should be told Voldemort hadn’t been special, he had been a cheater.

But he could see why no one would want other Dark wizards to know they could cheat the system too. He would have to talk about it with Hari. If people knew they could be misused as Voldemort had misused his Death Eaters then it wouldn’t matter if Dark wizards knew they could do it, no one would consent to be Marked at all.

He glanced over to Hari as she folded down into the elemental bath for cleansing.

Hari was clearly beyond a master but an Adept since she clearly had access to node magic. IT had to be how she had defeated Voldemort. He had had all his follower’s magic to burn but she had had all of the Earth’s magic and no mortal could compete with that.

Further, she had no inclination for healing, so she wasn’t the ultra-rare Healing Adept he had read about in the House of Black archives. She was a War Adept and  _ that _ was damn near terrifying. He had thought such a creature was only theoretical but…well, now he knew why she wasn’t afraid to admit to her virginal state.

No one would be able to take her and use her for their own means. No one could.

War Adepts were said to have magical instincts for combat. Short term precognition to hasten their responses, an unending magical supply, and the ability to  _ absorb _ spell knowledge from watching it cast.

And she was going to be the mother of his children, he thought dizzily.

Blaise watched Hari leave her elemental bath. The ends of her hair were floating on air, still on fire, but nothing burned. She bowed to the wall and it opened to show a collection of ancient magical focuses. She took a thick dark green staff off the wall and the collection disappeared once again.

Hari turned to him. “Are you prepared?”

Wordlessly, he stood from his own elemental bath.

She took his hand and led him straight through a wall. The ritual chamber was cave-like and so dark he couldn’t see. She led him through the dark and urged him up against a flat stone. Once he was leaning but steady, she left him.

A small flame appeared in the dark.

Then it became two, then three.

Soon the entire circle was lit with thick, white candles and he could see the first flame was still burning in her palm as she moved to the outer ring of candles.

As she lit those, they were silently joined in the ritual circle by Lady Hermione Granger of House Crouch and Lord Neville Longbottom of House Longbottom. They had appeared from his right holding hands, but soon separated to take different places in the circle.

He thought he heard soft footsteps and turned his head to see Lord William and Lady Fleur walking across the chamber hand in hand. Once they reached the circle, they too separated and took their places.

Thinking he knew what was coming next, Blaise turned his head to the left. He had no idea who would come next. Viktor Krum, maybe? Fleur and Hari were still said to be close with their Bulgarian competitor, but he had married Cho Chang and Hari’s brief romantic association with her hadn’t ended well at all. Blaise could not imagine her being welcome in Hari’s  _ private magical clique _ as she had called it.

To his utter shock one half of the third couple was Ragnok Stormbreaker, the High Chieftain of the Goblin Horde. He was holding hands with a woman Blaise assumed was his wife based on the pattern of the rest but…he’d never seen a female Goblin before. He didn’t think anyone had…

But that was obviously wrong, since they were part of Hari’s conclave, or at least her inner circle. She hadn’t given him any more details than those he absolutely needed for his part in the ritual and he couldn’t even ask questions until they were bound together.

Once they had completed the marriage bond that she had allowed him to choose, he would be the seventh member of her inner circle.

Hari Potter appeared beside him and he stood to face her. She started hissing. As she ran a parselmagic conclave, the entire ritual would be carried out in parseltongue. He wouldn’t understand anything until she invited him into his personal circle for their bonding. Strangely, he found he didn’t mind. Hari was one of the most trustworthy people he knew, and the sound and magical weight of her hissing was making him hard.

She held up a ring of goblin-forged platinum and a blood red ruby above the altar and it floated to the head of the altar. Which was a good thing because Hari was going to have to keep some focus on it so it could be properly enchanted.

She offered him both of her hands and he took them.

She pulled him forward through a thick wall of magic that squeezed him viciously but once he was through, he could hear her words in English.

“I, Hari of House Potter, Master of Death and Heir Conveyant of House Pendragon, take you Blaise of House Black as my partner for better or worse, in magic and love, from this day until my last day.”

Blaise swallowed. Heir Conveyant? Holy hell, his son was going to be a king! “I, Blaise of House Black, take you Hari of House Potter as my partner for better or worse, in magic and love, from this day until my last day.”

She went up on her toes to kiss him. He pulled her close and turned it into a right snog. He wanted her. Merlin, how he wanted her.

When the magic became too strong to fight, he urged her up on the altar. She went up on her hands and knees and he climbed up behind her. It felt primitive but powerful to  _ mount _ her from behind.

He spoke the words to seal their bond. “Duo cordibus vestris—ut murmurantes. Duo cordibus vestris—nunc autem una. Duo cordibus vestris—simul ab aeterno.”

He fucked her as he spoke. The magic of the bonding had prepared her as the books had said it would, if she was truly willing to be his bride. She was hot and tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for him and there was no tension to indicate discomfort in her back.

She had groaned as he slid home and pushed herself back on his cock when he pulled out.

He might have been described as the  _ active partner _ in the ritual text but that was clearly not the case in the ritual itself. She writhed under him, held his weight, followed his urgings, and was vocal in her opinions the entire time.

The closer they brought each other to completion, the tighter the bond forming between them held. When he finally came, she did too, and magic exploded around them.

When he came back to himself, he was half-collapsed on Hari’s back but also still kneeling. Her legs had given out and she was sprawled under him with her ass against his stomach. The members of her conclave were gone.

He knew she had planned for Hermione to close the ritual, but he hadn’t put too much thought into  _ why _ while they were planning it. Honestly, his education on ritual magic was sparse but that was going to change because that had been the best sex  _ of his life _ and he wanted it again.

“Now I know why your inner circle was not in the circle with the altar,” he teased as he looked around.

The candles marking the altar’s containment circle had been blown out and splattered. He didn’t want to think about the destruction Hari’s magic could have caused to  _ people _ .

“Shut up,” she laughed and waved her hands. The candles reformed and caught fire once again. “Let’s go clean up. The conclave will be waiting for us at my home. We always share a meal after a ritual.”

“Well, if it’s tradition,” he conceded jokingly.

“It is. And you have to endure their fussing with me,” she grumped as she pulled herself out from under him and into a seated position.

“That bad?” he asked as he sat back to make sure she had enough room.

“I think it qualifies as the ‘or worse’ part of those vows to be honest. Complete mother hens. And I think they’re planning a wedding reception for later this week. If we’re lucky, they’ll hold it in my manor’s garden. If they are worried about security, we’ll end up in the bowels of the Bank. It’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Blaise just sighed. “The things I do for love.”


	12. Square: Pretend Couple, Fandom: MCU/Criminal Minds, Pairing: Daisy Johnson/Penelope Garcia

**Title** : Help!   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : MCU and Criminal Minds   
**Genre** : AU   
**Relationships** : Daisy Johnson/Penelope Garcia   
**Author’s Notes** : Thanks to PN for giving me a direction. I honestly had no idea where to take this.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Pretend Couple   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 1,363   
**Summary** : I need somebody! Help! Not just anybody!

“Finally!” A warm hand settled on Penelope’s forearm and she turned to see an adorable brunette with a smile cute enough to rival her God of Chocolate Thunder just beaming at her. “You would not believe how long it took me to find you.”

“It’s pretty crazy in here,” she agreed. She was really confused though.

Before Penelope could ask a question the strange cutie pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear, “Help me. I’m being followed and I really don’t want him to get me alone.”

Penelope gave her a squeeze and pulled back. “Why did you leave? I told you I had your ticket.” She immediately started digging in her purse for Reid’s ticket. It wasn’t his fault he was sick and she could never leave another girl in a tight spot.

“Yeah, but I wanted my jacket,” Stranger Cutie took the ticket and kept Penelope’s hand. “You know how cold they keep it when all the machines are running.”

“Can’t damage the hardware,” Penelope agreed. Was this girl...into computers too? She didn’t look like the stereotypical hacker, but then again, Penelope knew she didn’t either. Not anymore, at least.

“You said,” Stranger Cutie gave her an awe-shucks smile, eye roll, and headbob combo that almost had Penelope cooing.

“Daisy,” a man grabbed Stranger Cutie by the arm almost yanking her out of Penelope’s grasp.

Pen held on and made him drag them both. 

“Excuse you, what are you doing?” she demanded as they stumbled to keep their feet.

The man was  _ muy caliente _ with the height and the muscles and the smouldering eyes. He looked like he belonged with Derek in a pinup calendar. But he also had a hateful fury in his face that reminded her of the team’s last spree killer and that was not a good category for anyone to be in in her head.

“What the hell, Grant?” Daisy, apparently, pulled herself free of November’s Spree Killer of the Month.

“You stole my drive,” this  _ Grant  _ growled. “And you’re going to give it back.”

“Haha!” Daisy said all loud and awkward. People were starting to pay attention and it was making Grant nervous. Good. “No! I didn’t do anything! Jeeze, I’m on a date with my girlfriend. What the hell, Grant. Why won’t you leave us alone?”

“Your girlfriend?” Grant said with disbelief. “Right. What’s her name?”

“Penelope Garcia,” Pen supplied, holding out a hand. “FBI. And, you are?”

Grant looked at her for the first time and looked even more disbelieving. “FBI? You?” 

“With the BAU,” she agreed. “Would you like to see my ID or should I just call my Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner? You look exactly like the kind of man he likes to talk to in his spare time.”

Daisy snorted.

“Interviews,” Pen corrected herself. “For academic and future profiling purposes. Profiles can never be too accurate, right? Should we schedule you for an appointment?”

“We’ll be watching you, Johnson.” Grant glared one more time at them both and pushed away through the crowd.

“...Ex-boyfriend?” Penelope asked.

“We never really got that far?” Daisy said cautiously.

“Good.” Penelope nodded and refrained from clutching her chest in relief. “You deserve better.”

“Yes, I do,” Daisy agreed, eying her speculatively. “How do you feel about coffee?”

“I love it,” Penelope grinned. “But I’ve been waiting for FutureCon for months and I don’t want to miss a thing.”

“That name is terrible,” Daisy snickered.

“Agreed,” Penelope conceded. “But they roped  _ Tony Stark _ into a panel.”

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Yes way, three hours of him answering questions on green energy, artificial intelligence, and nanotechnology.”

“Oh, my god,” Daisy put a hand on her own chest like she had to steady her heart. “We should get our seats  _ now _ .”

“You promised me coffee,” Penelope reminded her.

“Seats first, I want to be close enough to  _ smell him _ . Then, I’ll go get coffee,” Daisy promised.

Penelope squeezed the hand she was still holding and led Daisy through the crowd. “You should give me your number. Once we are seated. To make sure you can find me again.”

“That was almost smooth,” Daisy teased.

Penelope just shot her an unrepentant grin. Cuteness, interested in technology, with a side of coffee? She was totally going to keep her.

“Are you really with the FBI?”

“Really, really. I’m a Technical Analyst.”

Daisy grinned. “You’re a hacker!”

She was so pleased, Pen was charmed. “And you?”

“I prefer the term  _ hacktivist _ , personally.”

“I might have done a little bit of that myself,” Penelope agreed. “That’s how I ended up with the FBI.”

“That’s how I got the attention of SHIELD.”

Daisy’s face was complicated, Pen wasn’t sure what to make of it. “That how you met Tall, Dark, and Murderous?”

“He was my SO.”

Penelope stopped and turned to look at her. “You said you hadn’t gotten that far?”

“SO as in Supervising Officer. My field trainer, basically. After...after AC brought me on board and I realized SHIELD’s mission was actually necessary, Grant volunteered for the job. It was him or the Great Stone Dragon herself. I went with him.”

“The Great Stone Dragon?” Penelope asked, torn between horrified and amused.

“Well, she hates the nickname she actually earned and she is entirely terrifying and competent,” Daisy said. “I would totally trust her to save the entire family from dishonor. Even if that makes me basically Mushu in this equation.”

“So, you’re the mouthy one then?” Pen teased.

“So mouthy and so unprepared, and I look great in red.” Daisy winked at her and Penelope got them moving again. “Someday she’s going to find out I bought a leather jacket and aviator shades to pretend to be her and intimidate a guy into hacking his own bank for me.”

Penelope laughed. It sounded so ridiculous but...SHEILD. SHIELD explained  _ everything _ .

“When that day comes, I will probably become an unsolved missing person’s case,” Daisy finished with a shrug.

“At least you didn’t blow up the Emperor's Palace. Right?”

“Not yet,” Daisy agreed.

They got to the room the Stark Panel was scheduled for and there was already a line. Penelope huffed in disappointment but Daisy just shot her a smile and walked to the head of the line.

Penelope watched, kind of in line and kind of not, as Daisy marched right up to the suited men guarding the door and leaned in to talk to them. She had no idea what the other woman was saying but the man started nodding. Daisy turned back to her and nodded.

Cautiously, unsure she was doing the right thing, she walked up to join Daisy and the guard.

Before she could say anything, Daisy pulled her through the door behind the man and into the largest room Penelope had ever seen dedicated to a panel.

“What did you do?” she  _ had _ to ask.

“We’re government agents.” Daisy smiled. “We’re checking the A/V system for cyberthreats for the protection of Mr. Stark.”

“That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard,” Penelope admitted. 

“It’s those Mushu skillz.” 

Penelope could  _ hear  _ the z at the end of the phrase and wondered if she could pull off an Emily Prentiss Facepalm. “Is the system even connected to the internet or is a microphone going to suddenly bite him?”

“We’ll find out,” Daisy said cheerfully. “And then we’ll get to sit just off stage and watch the whole panel—monitoring for threats, you know. We even get access to the catering provided for Mr. Stark.”

Pen blinked. That was...a lot more than just good seats. “I heard he gets his coffee imported.”

“Tony Stark gets the best coffee,” Daisy agreed. “I read a security brief about him months ago. He refuses to speak anywhere if there isn’t coffee from at least three different countries on offer.  _ Gourmet  _ coffee. Hand brewed by a  _ chef _ .”

Heaven. It sounded like Heaven. “We’re going to actually play with their systems, right? Since you told that guy?”

“Of course.” Daisy looked at her in surprise. “I’m not  _ that _ big of a liar.”

Penelope grinned and snuck a kiss onto Daisy’s cheek. “Best pretend girlfriend ever.”

Daisy laughed.


	13. Square: Pregnancy, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: pre-Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You remember those times in the MCU fandom before Civil War where all of the Avengers were living in Stark Tower as a big, dysfunctional family? Let's go back to that.

**Title** : The Dog Father   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : MCU   
**Genre** : AU   
**Relationships** : pre-Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, background-Steve Rogers/Tony Stark   
**Author’s Notes** : Thanks to PN for inspiring the subversion of the typical trope. I love it and you are a genius. And look! It’s dude Clint! Aren’t you surprised?!? And thank you to my brother for helping me with the art. I love it. That is his doggo playing the part of Lucky!   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Pregnancy   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 1,656   
**Summary** : How did they end up getting together via text message at the Vet’s office, Bucky would never know, but he had the feeling he would always be grateful.

“Dude,” Bucky said as he watched Clint’s dog waddle his way across Stark’s penthouse. “I think your dog’s pregnant.”

“Lucky’s a boy,” Clint said without even looking away from his video game. “Boys don’t get pregnant.”

“Some boys do!” Tony called from the breakfast nook.

“Only boys with uteruses!” Clint countered, still not looking away from his game. “Dogs don’t work that way!”

“Clint, look.” Bucky took Clint’s head between his hands and gently turned it to face his dog. The dog’s stomach was big enough that he was sitting awkwardly. It did nothing to hide the growth in the dog’s tummy region.

“That’s…not too much pizza is it?” Clint tried.

“Not so much.”

“But the vet at the rescue said he was a boy!” Clint damn-near wailed.

“Who knows, Clint,” Steve smiled while keeping his focus on his sketch pad. “Maybe your dog is an alien?”

Clint just stared wide-eyed at his dog while his pixelated avatar got torn to pieces by a dinosaur. Bucky thought Clint had been playing some game about car theft, but he’d learned not to question these things. One time, Clint ended up the target of an Army manhunt in a  _ fishing simulator _ .

“You need to take him to the vet,” Bucky told him firmly.

“I need to take him to the vet,” Clint repeated in a daze.

“You have an appointment at 10:30,” Tony volunteered between sips of coffee. “Bucky, take the Rover. The address is already programmed in the GPS.”

Bucky pushed on Clint and the archer rocked but turned to focus on him. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright,” Clint stood. “Lucky,” he whistled a few times. “Let’s go, Lucky.”

The dog barked and didn’t jump like he usually would, more like he just bobbed.

Bucky caught up to Clint and Lucky in the elevator and said, “Clint’s floor, please, JARVIS,” before Clint could speak up.

“Pretty sure the Rover isn’t in my room, Buck-o.”

“Pretty sure your pants are.” Bucky looked pointedly down Clint’s boxer shorts—light purple with darker purple hearts on them—bare legs and holey socks.

“My legs are great,” Clint defended himself.

“Your legs are great,” Bucky agreed. “But that hole on your ass could put you in jail for indecent exposure.”

“Is it really indecent exposure when you’ve got an ass like mine?” Clint teased. “I work out, you know.”

“Put on some fucking pants!” The elevator dinged and Bucky shooed Hawkeye towards his rooms.

“Alright, but only because you insist.”

“You fucking mook,” Bucky muttered as he leaned against the back wall of the lift car. Lucky settled against his leg with a huff that sounded like agreement.

Why was he attracted to this man again? Clearly, he had no fucking taste.

The GPS in the Rover took them through the drive thru of a Starbucks—proving clearly that Tony Stark was the best friend a pair of under-caffeinated marksmen could have—and still got them to the vet of choice on time. Bucky hadn’t known there was such a thing as an upscale veterinarian, but Stark had found them one.

Rather than the clutter and the excess of animal noises, they walked into a clean and quiet and gleaming and  _ clean _ office. Where no one was waiting. It was nerve wracking.

“Hey,” Clint touched the back of Bucky’s clenched fist and Bucky realized it was balled into a fist. “If you want to wait in the car, that’s okay.”

“I—” he started to demure, but Clint shot him a look.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah, I— I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to talk about his past as an animal in a cage. As Hydra’s leashed dog. He  _ didn’t _ and he knew Clint wouldn’t make him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Clint gave him a small smile. “I can see how this could remind you of bad things. Hell, it reminds me of SHIELD medical, so I expect you to text me every two minutes and if you don’t get a response at least every five, you better come rescue me.”

“I can do that,” Bucky agreed.

Clint glared like he wasn’t convinced. “Guns blazing and everything. I mean it.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “The Rover has a hidden weapons cache, that’s why Tony always pushes it on me. He keeps it stocked for me.”

“He doesn’t keep a car stocked for me!” Clint protested.

“A car? No. Your vehicle’s a Quinjet. Pretty sure I’m jealous.”

“Well, I am his favorite,” Cling grinned. “Baselines gotta stick together.”

“Pretty sure Rhodes is his favorite,” Bucky disagreed. “He got a fully armored, robotic suit.”

“Nah,” Clint shook his head. “I didn’t want a suit. Limited my vision too much.”

“He let you try one?” Bucky demanded.

“Aren’t you supposed be waiting in the car?” Clint asked innocently.

“Clint,” Bucky said sharply, “do not fuck with me. He let you try a suit?”

“Bucky, I’m going to be late.” The archer smirked and turned away from him.

“Clint!”

“Have fun in the car!” Clint called as he bellied up to the reception desk.

“Goddammit,” Bucky muttered to himself and turned to the door. He could not believe—! No, of course Stark had tried to suit up the other baseline. Of course, he did. The mechanic had to be aware of how much more fragile he and Clint were than the rest of them, especially since he started dating Steve.

He’d just gotten comfortable in his driver’s seat when his text notification went off.

_ This place has a maternity ward. _ Clint’s text said.  _ What kind of vet clinic has a freaking maternity ward? _

Before he could tap in a response another message came.

_ I feel like I just jumped into a Pepto-Bismol lake. Holy pinkness, Batman. _

Bucky had barely responded with a  _ Lol _ when another message came through. So much for two minutes/five minutes.

_ The vet tech thinks Lucky isn’t completely Golden Retriever. She says he’s maybe part Husky. _

_ What made her say that? _ He sent back.

_ Something about his fur? I don’t know what’s different. _

_ We can find a breeder and pet some puppies _ ? Bucky offered.

_ Fuck yeah, dogs! _ Was Clint’s articulate reply.

That was why he was interested in Clint, though. His pure, honest enthusiasm. His endearing adoration of dogs was so…compelling. Bucky wanted to see if it transferred to other interests.

_ She just asked me if I ever saw a dog mount Lucky.  _ Clint sent.

_ I told her I thought being the bottom ran in the family.  _ Followed quickly and Bucky’s metal hand nearly crushed the Venti Caramel Frap no whip that Clint had ordered for him.

_ I can hear her laughing through the wall. It’s not that funny. _

_ Not funny, really, but interesting. _ Bucky sent. As soon as he hit the little paper airplane button, dread coiled in his gut.

_ My dog being a bottom is interesting? _

Bucky nearly facepalmed.  _ Not your dog, no. _

The little text at the top of the app said “Hawkguy is typing…” and cleared several times before he finally received a message from Clint.  _ Is this you finally making a move? _

_ Was I being subtle? _ Bucky squeezed his eyes closed, not sure he wanted an answer to that question. God knew the Winter Soldier was by no means subtle, but Bucky was trying not to be him anymore.

_ I’m kinda surprised you can spell that word. _

_ Fuck you, Hawkguy _ . Was his immediate response.

Then.  _ If I’m so not subtle, why didn’t you do something about it? _

_ Momma said a lady never chases her man. _

Bucky snorted.  _ You’re not a lady. _

_ Good point! Beer and Wings? The Bartender at Jake’s lets me bring Lucky inside. _

Bucky blinked down at his phone. Was…was it really that easy to get a date with another man?

_ Sure? _ he tried.

_ …is this just a sex thing? Not a dating thing? _ Clint asked in one message. Then in the next, he said,  _ Not that I’m opposed to a sex thing. I’d just like to know up front. _

_ No, not just a sex thing, _ Bucky admitted.

_??? _

_ I didn’t think it would be that easy to ask someone out? _ Bucky offered.  _ A fella, I mean. _

_ Oh. _ Clint sent.  _ Yeah, it’s easy AF. _

_ There’s even an app just for gay hookups. I haven’t tried it. With my luck I’d end up with a psycho. _

Considering Clint had managed to find a T-Rex in Grand Theft Auto just that morning, Bucky was pretty sure that was a good idea.

_ I’ll start Googling breeders and see if one will let us swing by. _ Bucky offered.

_ Good call!  _ Clint agreed.  _ Tomorrow though. It can be date number two. _

_ Just to be clear, I don’t put out until the fifth date. _ Bucky teased, knowing full well that if Clint wanted him, Clint had him.

_ Ooooh, a proper lady!  _ Clint sent back.  _ Don’t worry, I’m up for your barbaric 1940s courting. I heard all about it from Tony. _

Bucky groaned.  _ Do not tell me anything about  _ **_that_ ** _. Sheesh. _

_ Why not? Tony’s hot AF. _

_ Steve is my brother! _ Bucky objected.

_ Valid. _ Clint conceded.  _ Makes it easier to surprise you if you don’t know my playbook, anyway. _

Bucky rolled his eyes.  _ Like I’m that hard to get anyway. _

_ You are very hard to get, I’ll have to know. _

_ Very hard. _

_ Very, very  _ **_hard_ ** **.**

Bucky had to laugh. He was back to wondering why he found this man attractive, seriously.

_ If you say anything along the lines of “hard like me” I’m taking the car and going home. _

_ Dammit.  _ Clint sent. Then.  _ Come on, man, who would do that to a knocked-up dog? Making him walk home? That’s messed up! _

_ Well, if it’s for the dog… _

_ You’re the best!  _ Clint sent with a gif of an awkward little man doing a fist-pump.  _ Ultrasound time! _

_Yeah, yeah._ _You still owe me chicken wings._

_ Oh, I’ll give you some chicken alright. _

Bucky put a hand over his face and laughed. At least whatever this was would never be boring.


	14. Square: Friends to Lovers, Fandom: Harry Potter, Pairing: Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did Lady!Harry so I gotta do Dude!Harry, too. I don't make the rules...

**Title** : A Classy Lady   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : Harry Potter   
**Genre** : AU   
**Relationships** : Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom   
**Warnings** : Dumbledore is a fucker. So is Amos Diggory.   
**Author’s Notes** : No sex but I think I hit the mark anyway.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Friends to Lovers   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 1,310   
**Summary** : The middle of a Wizengamot trial was not the time or place Neville had pictured for telling Harry about their marriage contract—but that choice was rather taken out of his hands and needs must.

"As a legislative and judicial body, we have agreed—over a dozen times—that Albus Dumbledore broke the law by failing to execute my parents' Will," Harry Potter said with more patience than Neville would have expected of him. "He illegally placed me with unfit guardians, illegally incarcerated my only legal guardian, defrauded my House estate, stole from me personally, and lied to every single person in this room about it.

"Albus Dumbledore is in the ICW  _ jail _ as we speak for all of the many ways he violated the human rights of magical Britain in general and myself in particular.

"So, why is it suddenly acceptable that he signed a marriage contract without my input? Without my legal guardian's agreement?"

"Mr. Potter—" the new Chief Warlock Amos Diggory started.

Harry held up a hand to stop him. "Lord Potter is the form of address required of you by court protocols, Mr. Diggory. Though  _ Your Grace _ is also valid."

Amos Diggory flushed scarlet immediately and Neville tapped his seal requesting to be recognized before the issue at hand could devolve into the Potter vs Diggory feud they had all been subjected too in the three months since Diggory had gotten himself elected. Dumbledore's former voting bloc had voted the man into office and they were all paying for it.

They would be paying for it for another nine months since there were no protocols to remove a Chief Warlock or Witch from office short of the elected person stepping down or dying. There was no limit to the number of terms a Chief Warlock could serve, either.

Thankfully the Cheif Warlock had to be voted into office every Samhain.

Neville was already working to ensure Diggory was  _ not _ elected again—and every meeting of the Wizengamot Diggory had made that job easier.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Lord Longbottom," Chief Warlock Diggory announced grudgingly.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock." With a tug on his magic, his head house elf appeared and handed over the magical vault from where it was usually hidden under the warding stone at Longbottom Keep. "I'm afraid any and all discussion regarding the marriage contract for Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley is moot."

He pulled a signed and sealed scroll out of the magical vault and laid it on the desk. When he hit the correct rune, the contract was temporarily duplicated on every Lord's desk in the room.

"As you can all see, there was already an active marriage contract for Harry Potter—signed by both valid guardians and patriarchs of both sides—when Albus Dumbledore illegally signed the marriage contract to settle Ginevra Weasley's life debt to Lord Potter."

Neville visually checked in with Harry. Harry's poker face had gotten better over the years but there was something in his shoulders that read like relief to him.

The Weasley family solicitor looked up from reading his copy of the contract. "Lord Potter has two titles. He can legally take two spouses."

Neville glanced over at Harry again. He caught Harry scrunching his nose in distaste before his face cleared.

"If Lord Potter were marrying a woman, that would be correct," Neville agreed. "But as I am also a Lord and his peer, he is required to receive my permission to seek out a consort for the two of us. She would be  _ our _ wife and I would never agree to marry a woman without a noble father—muggle or magical. My family magic would never accept her as the Lady Longbottom."

"This is rather a clear-cut case," Chief Warlock Diggory agreed reluctantly.

Then he suddenly sat up with a pleased look and Neville had to wonder how the old man thought he was going to fuck over Harry Potter this time.

"The Court moves to dismiss the case of Potter vs Weasley on the condition that the Potter-Longbottom marriage contract is fulfilled within the next forty-eight hours. All those in favor?"

Most of the Wizengamot voted in favor—Neville assumed to reduce the amount of time they had to tolerate Diggory, not because they cared about when he and Harry fucked.

"Lord Longbottom, do you understand and agree to the Court's conditions?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock," Neville agreed as he sat down.

"Lord Potter, do you understand and agree to the Court's conditions?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock."

"Very well, if you will return to your box so that we may proceed?"

Harry caught his eye as he walked back to his own box and Neville grinned when Harry rolled his eyes.

This was going to be fun.

-*-

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Harry asked once they were alone in the Lord's Office at Longbottom Keep.

It was the most privacy Neville could provide them and he was grateful for Harry's discretion.

"I did," he said honestly. "I told you and asked you to Hogsmeade during our sixth year, but I was memory charmed and made to forget it. I assume you were too. I didn't realize what had happened until I came home that summer and once again found the contract. When I asked Gran about it and she realized I had no memory of it, we sought out a ritual memory restoration from the Bank."

"I’ve heard there is a bit of a waitlist for the Bank's ritual services," Harry frowned.

"The ritual wasn't completed until Yule of that year," Neville said by way of agreement. "But you hadn't come back to school and Dumbledore hadn't had the curse on his wand hand lifted yet so I figured you were relatively safe on that front and we would talk about it after."

"You could have written me," Harry protested.

"Our own minds weren't safe—how could an owl offer any security to such a discussion?"

"Yeah, alright." Harry sighed and nodded. "You know I had the biggest crush on you right up until the beginning of sixth year. Do you think Dumbledore took that from me too?"

"Possibly," Neville agreed. "But if he did...consummating our marriage would undo whatever potion or curse work he did. The Contract will protect us in that way."

"Is that why our parents engaged us?"

"Betrothed," Neville corrected. "I have my father's journal. It’s bound to my family line so you won't be able to read it until we have a child that is biologically ours."

Harry nodded once, indicating his understanding.

"According to my dad, our parents learned about the prophecy about you and Voldemort. They knew it would come true but they didn't know which of us it was about so they betrothed us to form a bond between us—to make sure we would both have all the support we would need throughout our entire lives.

"That wasn't their only reason," Neville continued. "We were highly compatible magically and several forms of divination predicted happy futures for us together."

He sat back to drink some of his tea to let Harry digest that at his own pace. Neville had had years to come to terms with things. Harry had had the afternoon.

"I want to read your father's journal and I'm not opposed to children—we both need heirs, but we're both men," Harry shook his head. "How can this work? Two men cannot naturally...you know. We need parts neither of us has."

"Once we're married, I can teach you the Longbottom method," Neville said.

"And that will let us make babies together?"

"Yes."

"Like, biologically? Like.  _ In _ our bodies?"

Neville chuckled. "No, neither of have to carry the fetus. The child will mature in the ground until roughly six months of age—based the...standard way of doing things."

"That’s fascinating." Harry shook his head and picked up his teacup. "What now?"

"Now, we relax until dinner and after that...we make our own choices."

Harry grinned. "You're saying you want to buy me dinner first?"

"I am a classy lady," Neville agreed primly.

Harry laughed.


	15. Square: Accidental Child Acquisition, Fandom: Star Trek AOS, Pairing: Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Nyota Uhura

**Title** : One Spectacular Fuck Up   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : Star Trek AOS   
**Genre** : Accidental Mental Bonds, Premeditated Parent Trapping   
**Relationships** : James T Kirk/Spock, Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel/Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu/Ben Sulu   
**Author’s Notes** : This was supposed to be Crack Taken Seriously but I’m not quite sure I managed. Still, I like what I wrote so here you go.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Accidental Child Acquisition   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 2,125   
**Summary** : Star Fleet sees a golden PR opportunity in the settling of New Vulcan. It is one spectacular fuck up.

"We have dedicated the next year of service for the  _ Enterprise _ to assisting the establishment of the new Vulcan homeworld," Admiral Pike said toward the end of Jim and Spock's virtual briefing. They were already ferrying the Vulcan High Council and what was left of their households to the newly selected planet—their first mission after their girl had finally been repaired.

Jim had been grateful for the assignment at the time—six months on the ground had been five and a half too many for him. He hadn't thought of it as a portent of his future...but be found he didn't mind.

"I understand," Jim nodded as he replied.

"Now that several housing units and basic community buildings have been completed, Vulcans will be arriving to take possession of the planet," Pike continued, looking fairly uncomfortable around the edges. "The Admiralty believes it would be best for the command crew of the Enterprise to remain on hand for this process. To assure these...traumatized citizens of the Federation that they are safe on their new planet and that Starfleet remains dedicated to their protection."

Jim frowned. "Sir?" He could see the benefits of such a simple thing—the media had been calling them the Protectors of the Federation. Jim had accepted that it was part and parcel of captaining the flagship and did his best to let the attention roll off his back as much as possible.

But he wasn't sure why it made  _ Pike _ uncomfortable.

"There will be press covering the Landings," Admiral Komak interjected when Pike hesitated. "We expect you to wear your dress uniforms and charm the cameras. This is a public relations and recruitment opportunity without equal. You will not waste it."

Jim had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent the noise of understanding from leaving his mouth. This was what Pike hadn’t liked.

"Has the Vulcan High Council agreed to this exploitation of our people?” Spock asked before Jim felt the need.

"The High Council has agreed to the logic of documenting their people are making." Komak shot Spock a warning look. "The  _ Enterprise _ command crew are heroes. What could make a delicate, endangered person feel safer than a hero? The arrangement benefits all parties, there is no exploitation."

"We understand, sir," Jim interjected before Spock could put a foot in it. "Commander Spock and I would like it officially logged that we object to this plan. We will, of course, follow our orders to the best of our ability, but we both agree that this plan will backfire in ways none of us has the context to anticipate."

Komak shot him a superior look, clearly thinking he had won this round.

It was Pike that nodded decisively and said, "Noted."

-*-

“This is damnfool nonsense,” Bones muttered  _ again _ . The same way he had every time the  _ Enterprise’s _ Senior Staff had gathered for a Landing ceremony.

Mostly, every ceremony was the Vulcan High Council greeting the new arrivals, reminding them that Vulcan law had been transferred wholesale to their new home and that Clan Lands had been distributed in accordance to the backup records that had survived—thank god for off-planet data backup.

It was all said in High Golic, which Jim supposed was what made it seem so fascinating to those that did not speak the language. He wondered if the news vids bothered to provide translations or if they were trying to enhance the mystic of what it was to be Vulcan.

All the crew did was stand to one side as the arrivals disembarked from the shuttles ferrying them down from the much larger transport ships in orbit.

Bones settled back with nothing more than a frown as the latest shuttle hissed open. Children, all female, started to flow out of the shuttle. There wasn’t an adult with them so far as Jim could see, marking them as orphans, all.

A half dozen kids ranging from eight to twelve came first—school children, he guessed. Probably evacuated by a teacher or temporary day-guardian of some type.

Then came a child that couldn’t be more than a toddler to Jim’s untrained eye. The moment she stepped onto solid planet, she stopped, and the line stopped with her. Her face screwed up in distress and she started to scream her fear and pain, vocally and mentally.

None of the Vulcans reacted. They stared at the child, more than a little dumbfounded.

“Goddammit,” Bones muttered as he broke ranks. He marched swiftly up to the kid and swept her up in a careful embrace, Uhura two steps behind him.

The kid flailed as she was moved and when her hand connected to Bones’s face, Jim could hear a  _ snap _ in part of his brain that he couldn’t identify—the part that had told him as many details as he could process about the little girl’s previous distress.

Now, though, she was staring at Bones with wide eyes. “Sa-mekh?”

“Shh, sweetie, it’s okay,” Nyota rubbed the girl’s stress-stiffened back comfortingly. “You’re okay.”

The girl turned serious brown eyes on his Communications Officer and very seriously touched her face. Again, there was that snapping sound Jim couldn’t understand, but it was gentler somehow, less stressed.

“Ko-mekh.” The little girl nodded decisively and put her head down on Bones’s chest. One little hand pulled up toward her mouth like she wanted to suck her thumb but wasn’t quite undisciplined enough even in her distress to give in to her urge.

Bones and Uhura moved closer together, both cuddling their…well, their daughter, looking uncertain and confused but passionate in their mutual regard.

Jim watched dispassionately as the older children looked at the newly minted Uhura-McCoy family, looked at each other, and turned for the Senior Staff. Spock stepped in front of him, ready to defend Jim as a First Officer should, but the kids were not swayed. The ones that came for him, took Spock too.

Some went for Nurse Chapel, some for Scotty, or for both of them. One or two went for Checkov even though he was not much older than any of them, and the ones that went for Sulu touched no other crew member making Jim wonder if they could feel the marriage bond he and his husband shared despite the utter dearth of psi-talent between them.

All around him parental bonds snapped into place—though Jim himself hadn’t known the term for it until he himself was so bonded. With Spock as his co-parent.

They were lucky it was such a small shuttle. Otherwise the new family units would be too big for even the Enterprise to house. A laugh bubbled up behind his lips and Jim struggled to keep it in. His two new daughters were caught by surprise by the strength of their bond and had no such restraint left.

He could  _ feel _ Spock’s exasperated amusement, but he still kept watch over the three of them as they devolved into a giggling heap.

It was pretty great.

-*-

“All told,” Bones said quietly as he stroked the back of his youngest daughter where she still rested against his chest. Nyota had returned from settling their older three—a pair of bond mates and one of the bonded pair’s biological sister—into bed for the evening. “You and I have four—though once T’rairis’s bondmate is located, since she believes him to be alive, that will go to five. The Captain and Spock got away with three—two girls and one of the girls’ bondmate. Sulu gained two—”

“Is Ben on the way to meet his new children?” Nyota asked.

“That’s what I heard,” Len confirmed. “Ambassador Spock is seeing that Ben and their boy are brought from Earth with all due haste.”

“Maybe now Ben will stop hesitating on getting his Ship Councilor’s Certification.” Nyota raised an eyebrow at him.

Len inclined his head and focused back on his PADD. “Chekov gained one—the elders said it is more of a sibling bond than a parental bond. Hell if I know what that means. And Scotty and Chapel got three.” He…didn’t hesitate exactly, but he proceeded with caution. He needed to know where they stood with each other, the uncertainty between them was not good for their children. “Christine told me she and Scotty are getting married. For the children. That they are mentally compatible enough that Elder T’pau believes she can create a proper marriage bond between them.”

Nyota raised an eyebrow at him. “Can a human mind even maintain a Vulcan marriage bond?”

“There hasn’t been any research done on it between two humans—such bonds are only made between two citizens of Vulcan and there were no pairs of married humans before we got reverse-adopted—but Spock’s mother maintained a hearty bond with his father. She was full human with no psi-talent and she was never damaged by it.”

“That almost sounds like we can maintain one, just not create one.”

Len inclined his head. That was what it had seemed to imply to him but there was no proven, documented, reviewed science behind it and an implication was not enough for him to compromise the sanctity of his own mind—or that of the children he was bonded to—for something so experimental.

“Is that something you wanted?” Nyota pressed.

“…I’m not opposed to it,” he admitted. “But I can’t rush into a marriage or an untested mental bond. That’s not who I am.”

“Me either,” she admitted. “I find the concept fascinating. I read up as much as I could about Vulcan courting and marriage customs before I began dating Spock, of course. It was only logical but…”

“How is…that?” he asked gently. As far as he knew their relationship had been blossoming…but then they suddenly had children with other people. That had to be awkward.

“Were he anyone else, I would say it was a race to see who could break up with who first.” Nyota snorted. “I…care for him, but the girls…”

“They have to come first,” he said softly, and she nodded. “Jim’s already got a team coming to refit the Senior Staff quarters. He wants to know how many rooms our family suite will need.”

Nyota tipped her head in thought. “Three, I think. Four, if Spevan is located. We should probably consult the girls regarding whether they want to share or not but separating the bondmates is a bad idea.”

“So, we’re sharing?” Len asked, just to be clear.

“Why wouldn’t we?” she frowned at him. “What do you think is going on between us?”

Len didn’t know what to say so he shrugged.

“Would you like to know my five-year plan?” She asked—sounding teasing rather than annoyed.

“It is rather relevant to my interests,” he admitted.

“You and I will court each other for no less than three years. Should we agree that we suit, we will marry in the customs of our peoples and bond in the custom of our children—”

Len nodded. “We gotta set a good example.

“—before the end of year four,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “By the end of year five we will begin our reproductive negotiations. We are ambitious people with ambitious goals, we will have to compromise but I believe we can find a happy middle ground between Ambassador for United Earth and Chief Medical Officer of Starfleet.”

He started to object to wanting such but found he was unopposed to it. The stars knew Starfleet Medical needed some sense kicked into it.

Because everyone had been careful not to look too closely at the circumstances that put Kirk in the right place to save the ship and Earth, Len’s biggest reprimand after the  _ Narada _ Incident had been for not comm-ing headquarters for permission to salvage Captain Pike’s spine. As if there was time for such committee-driven nonsense with a slug actively eating a man’s valuable nerve tissues.

“Last names?” he asked. Then he hastily clarified. “I have no problem with us each keeping our own, I’m just curious.”

“I am not opposed to hyphenation,” Nyota admitted. “Though Vulcan custom would make all of our children McCoys and they idea of not having the same name as my children is…distressing.”

Len wanted to offer to take her last name, but he found he couldn’t…actually. His ex-wife had married him for his last name, for the reputation his family had had for generations back in Georgia. She had kept his name even after she had destroyed him personally. He found the idea of shedding his last connection to her appealing.

Keeping his daughters from being connected to her in any way was also appealing.

“We have time,” was what he said out loud because this was something he was going to have to think about.

Nyota nodded. “We have time.”


	16. Square: Isolated/Trapped, Fandom: MCU, Pairing: Morgan Stark/Nate Barton

**Title** : Here   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : MCU   
**Genre** : Interdimensional Travel, Future Fic, Sentinels and Guides are Known   
**Relationships** : Tony Stark/Clint Barton, Morgan Stark/Nate Barton   
**Warning** : Non-Consensual Dimensional Travel   
**Author’s Notes** : Tony’s daughter/Clint’s second son from an SnG Canon AU drop in to see Tony/Clint from my Seeing AU. Not connected to my AU, I’m just entertaining myself. I have casted Daisy Ridley for Morgan Stark and Charlie Rowe for Nate Barton.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Isolated/Trapped   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 3,234   
**Summary** : When Nate and Morgan are trapped in an alternate universe by Dr. Doom, they have to make a decision—here or there?

“Doom is pulling back!” Nate announced over the comms.

“We got him on the run!” Lila declared and Morgan rolled her eyes. “Talon, see if you can close with him. Iron Heart, back him up. We can't let Doom escape!”

Lila didn't say  _ again _ but Morgan heard it anyway as she tore through the air on the trail of her sentinel. From the look of things, Nate had Doom on the ropes but...that was odd. Doom didn't stand around to fight. He had never engaged Nate one on one in all the months since he had come back enhanced from space.

Doom took one step back, drawing Nate forward. As soon as Nate's foot crossed an invisible line it began to glow a poison green.

“Nate!” she shouted the warning and JUNO kicked her thrusters into overdrive without waiting for the command.

She got her gauntleted hands on Nate as his foot landed in the center of the circle. She heard Miles shout, “Morgan!” as light shot up around them. 

They were falling, falling, falling.

They stopped, hanging in place for an eternal moment.

Then they reversed directions and immediately hit the ground with a soft  _ whomph _ .

Morgan had a moment to be glad she was on top. If her sentinel had landed on her suit, he would have been really feeling it for the five or so minutes it would take his healing factor to clear up the extensive bruising. As it was, JUNO had managed to get the suit's hands and knees under her so Nate wasn't pancaked either.

“JUNO,” Morgan said as she stood, “where are we?”

“Not sure, boss,” JUNO admitted. She sounded steady but she only reverted to her mother's preferred nickname when she was shaken. “I can't reach my main server but wifi is widely available. Coding is different from what we're used to—less secure. GPS data is saying we're in Central Park.”

“But there are no food trees,” Nate objected, nose flaring. “I can’t smell any oranges, or apples, or nuts. Some cherry, maybe, but not near us. Just pine and oak and elm.”

Less secure, no food trees. “Are we before the First Snap? What's the date, JUNO?”

“October 14, 2013,” JUNO said.

They watched as a Quinjet landed the standard Avengers’ Protocols Safe Distance away. A familiar red and gold streak flew closer to them.

“After the Invasion,” Nate told her needlessly.

“A little early for Halloween, isn't it?” a distorted voice asked from behind the Iron Man mask.

Morgan swallowed hard. Was that...her dad? She only had the vaguest memories of him outside of all the videos FRIDAY had given her of him  _ practicing _ how he was going to teach her science when she got old enough. 

Lessons he hadn't survived to give her directly.

“Genderbent Iron Man  _ and _ Black Widow,” Iron Man said approvingly. “Good job, kids.”

“Sir?” a guy in purple clutching a bow asked cautiously.

Morgan looked to Nate, not sure what she was seeing. Clint Barton had gone to jail and died there when they were both very young, not long after the Second Snap. The world had wanted someone to blame for the chaos it had been thrown into  _ again _ with the return of the Lost— Hawkeye had taken the fall so her mum wouldn't have to.

“Dad?” Nate asked, confirming her guess.

“I did not see that one coming,” Iron Man said dryly and opened his face mask. Yes, that was her dad. Younger than she had ever seen him but inarguably him.

Morgan opened  _ her _ face mask. “Dad?”

“Oh.” Tony Stark gave her wide eyes. “Well, this is awkward.”

-*-

“Sir,” JARVIS called his attention.

“Yeah, J?” Tony asked, continuing to stroke a hand through Clint’s hair absently.

“I am receiving extreme readings of non-standard energy in Central Park.”

“Non-standard energy?” Laura asked from one of the other couches.

“Magic,” Clint said as he rolled off the couch.

Ten minutes and the team was loaded up in the Quinjet, ready to bring the house down on whatever confused or malicious magic-user was making a mess.

“A little early for Halloween, isn't it?” asked more for the team than for his audience. He had come in closer and gotten eyes on and they didn’t look the most threatening. Okay, no, they looked plenty threatening just not…like villains. “Genderbent Iron Man  _ and _ Black Widow.” He approved of them actually—equal opportunity was everything. “Good job, kids.”

“Sir?” Clint asked as the team approached. He was slightly behind Cap who hand his shield up, ready to protect, which was good. And protocol.

“Dad?” not-Black Widow asked.

Tony opened his face mask to get a better look at the kid and quoted his favorite speedster. “I did not see that one coming.”

Iron Lady opened  _ her _ face mask and squinted at him with familiar brown eyes. “Dad?”

Oh, boy.

Rhodey landed and half-ordered/half-suggested, “…Let’s take this back to the Tower.”

Thank  _ the entire universe _ for Rhodey.

-*-

“So, let me get this straight,” Tony said  _ one more time _ because it was bothering him. “We’re not together where you’re from? Did we…break up?”

“You were never together,” Nathaniel ‘Nate’ “Talon”—Barton said evenly. “My dad was married before you ever met.”

“To who?” Clint asked.

“Do you know Laura Howlett?”

“Of course,” Clint scoffed. “She’s the squatter on my farm. I met her after—”

“Yes?” Nate pressed when Clint cut himself off.

Clint gave him the stink eye. “Why do I think you already know?”

“Because you aren’t dumb. no matter how much you pretend to make people underestimate you—which is dumb, you’re a superhero. You keep up with Captain America  _ and _ Iron Man without an enhancement, no one should underestimate you.”

“I am enhanced,” Clint corrected. “I have a minor healing factor.”

Nate blinked. “That’s new. Did you not have to kill Uncle Barney and Aunt Laura in this world? Did they not go crazy?”

“They did. And I did,” Clint admitted outright for the first time  _ ever _ that Tony had heard, flicking a guilty look over to Loki-as-Laura.

“Was Lila not…born?”

“Lila?” Clint asked.

“It’s what Aunt Laura named her and Uncle Barney’s daughter.”

“No,” Clint shook his head, looking sick to Tony’s experienced eye. “She wasn’t pregnant when I killed her.”

“I don’t think you killed her  _ per se _ in our world,” his daughter, Morgan, hastened to reassure. “From the stories I heard from…Nate’s Laura, Lila’s Laura took the news of her husband’s death badly and…died. After giving birth to Lila. You took her home to your farm keep her safe and met Nate’s Laura who helped you take care of her. What happened after that was just…natural for two adults trapped alone with only two kids for company.”

“Two kids?” Clint asked.

“My older brother Cooper was at the farm with Laura,” Nate said. “He was probably why you didn’t kick her out when you had every right to.”

“I know Cooper,” Clint admitted. “Sweet kid.”

Nate snorted. “Maybe  _ now _ . He didn’t take you going to jail with any sort of grace in our timeline.”

“Clint went to jail?” Tony demanded. “What for?”

“The Second Snap,” Nate explained. “The Snap the Avengers did to undo the Snap of Tha—”

Laura hissed, cutting him off, and jerked in surprise.

“We do not say his name,” Laura said when they all looked at her. “With the magical resources in his coterie, it is simply unwise.”

“Then you already know about him?” Morgan asked.

“He is why I am here,” Laura admitted.

“Ah.” Morgan nodded. “We had wondered.”

“Any tips?” Tony had to ask because, seriously, preventing  _ The Snap _ just got a whole lot more personal if it was key to defending Clint’s freedom, too. No one was taking Clint away from him—ever.

“After the Snap, Sentinels and Guides re-emerged among the population of Earth,” Morgan said. “Auntie Neb said that if we had emerged  _ before _ the Snap her father would have never come to Earth. That he feared Sentinels and Guides beyond any other forces we could have amassed.”

“Okay,” Tony drawled. “Who is Auntie Neb? And what are Sentinels and Guides?”

“Auntie Neb is a child that… _ he _ stole from her home planet before he wiped out the rest of her race. Most of his coterie are children he stole and raised for his own ends—a collection of the rarest form, beings that all the last of their kind. Most of them worship  _ him _ but Auntie Neb and her sister Gamora break free of him.

“Auntie Neb got you home after the First Snap,” Morgan told him seriously. “Space travel wasn’t really a thing for Earth back then.”

“Well, it is now,” Tony admitted with a frown. Someone he didn’t even know had saved his life. The other him’s life. It was a weird sort of knowledge, so he packed it away and ignored it. “How do we get Sentinels and Guides to emerge?” Because he wasn’t going to stop building Earth’s Armada, but multiple levels of protection seemed like the smart thing to do.

“A huge threat to the tribe did it for us,” Nate said with a shrug. “But it’s not like you can reveal that the Oversized Raisin is coming to Earth, right?”

“I don’t know.” Tony made a face. “After we found out about Hydra and all that, we started trying to be more open about stuff, but we also don’t want to insight panic.”

“Or destroy the  _ planet’s _ morale,” Clint agreed.

“I’ll have people run some numbers,” Tony offered.

“While you do that, look up Sir Richard Francis Burton’s monograph,” Morgan told him. “If it exists in this world, it’s probably your best hope for scientific information about Sentinels and their bonded Guides. It’s by no means complete—Burton did not have the tools to fully understand what he was seeing, and he was disgustingly hetero normative—but it’s a place to start.”

“J?” Tony asked.

“Already searching, Sir.”

The kids exchanged a look but didn’t say anything about JARVIS. But then, if they were Avengers’ kids, they had to know JARVIS.

“We’d also like to go home at some point,” Nate said. “Or at least have the option, rather than being trapped here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony flapped a hand at him. “I got people working on it. We sent them all the readings we could find, and we’ll check in with them tomorrow.”

-*-

“They have a lot more magic users than we do,” Morgan said as she pulled her shirt over her head. It was…amazing getting to meet and bond with a man that was almost her dad but her sentinel needed her attention after the long, stressful day they had had. “And Wanda’s not crazy, did you notice?”

“She was never Hydra,” Nate agreed, dropping his uniform pants. “And they didn’t give her her powers here.”

“Maybe they didn’t in our universe, either,” Morgan offered as led entered the large bathroom in the suite Tony had given them. “Maybe that’s why she’s crazy.”

“You think they just convinced her they gave her powers,” Nate accurately guessed. “With what? The Mind Stone?”

“Could be,” she agreed, turning on the shower. “Maybe her powers and the Mind Stone programming are in conflict.”

“Do we really have to talk about Wanda Maximoff while we’re naked?” Nate lamented.

Morgan stepped into the shower with a saucy grin over her shoulder. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”

Nate rushed the short distance between them and pinned her against a wall. “I can think of a few things,” he rumbled into her ear.

Morgan shuddered brought a leg up around his hip, dragging her foot along the back of his thigh in the way she knew drove him absolutely mad for her.

“Hold on to something,” he warned her as he went to his knees in front of her.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she groaned as she sank her hand into Nate’s hair.

She fucking loved her sentinel.

-*-

“Good morning,” Tony greeted the crowd hidden among the flashing lights. “Thank you from coming here today we have a bit of ground to cover so I would appreciate it if you would all hold your questions until the end.

“As you all know, with the convictions and imprisonment of so many government officials for various forms of theft and corruption, many other public figures have started keeping a policy of transparency with the world—the Avengers are no different. To that end, two weeks ago a magical portal opened in Central Park and ejected two people. We would like to introduce them to you now. The first is my daughter from the future of an alternate timeline—everyone, meet Morgan Stark.” Tony turned to his daughter.

Right on cue, Morgan stepped forward and nodded to the gathered reporters. “Hello.”

“With her came my partner, Clint Barton’s son from that same future alternate timeline, Nathaniel Barton.”

Nate stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Morgan and nodded as well but did not speak.

“We as a team and as fathers have been getting to know the kids—and they have been getting to know us as our alternates did not survive to know them for very long.”

The crowd gasped.

“We have learned what they know to be the signs and portents of future catastrophes and are doing everything in our power to prevent these tragedies—”

“Like what?” one brave reporter shouted out.

“The Chitauri Invasion,” Morgan answered before Tony could. “In our universe, it was…a scouting force. Loki of Asgard was mind-controlled by a third party and used to probe both Earth and Asgard’s defenses. The Avengers and SHIELD had already realized that here and placed Loki in protective custody in an unspecified location but the Third Party may still come to Earth regardless. And as individuals, we would rather our fathers not die so horribly a second time.”

“Their survival increases your survival,” Nate said bluntly. “The events that caused their deaths in our timeline killed more than half the population of the universe.”

There were several shouted questions—the crowd of reporters actually  _ surged _ forward, and the Stark Security Personnel present had to force them back.

“We are working on multiple layers of defense,” Tony promised the crowd when they calmed enough to listen to him once more. “We are working on every conceivable angle to address this threat—from keeping the fight that may be coming for us off-planet to awakening a genetic legacy that we have confirmed humanity still carries from our time in caves and as tribes across the globe.”

“You’re going to turn us into freaks!” someone shouted, and Tony struggled not to roll his eyes.

“On the contrary,” Tony disagreed. “Sentinels and Guides are  _ natural _ to our species in a way that automobiles and skyscrapers are not. After spending two weeks in the presence of a bonded pair, I can personally tell you, I have never felt safer than I have under even the informal guardianship of a sentinel. And the mental health benefits of spending time with a guide are instantaneous. Together they make me want to be a better person, to be more considerate, and do more for those around me.

“In Morgan and Nate’s timeline, Sentinels and Guides had re-emerged in response to the issue we are trying to prevent. Morgan and Nate along with the one living sentinel and his bonded guide that we have been able to find in this world agree that such a development before those events could be key in preventing them altogether.

“That said, this genetic legacy is unlikely to awaken in someone that is not invested in protecting the Tribe—that is, humanity in general.

“As our children have awoken this genetic legacy, Clint and I will be going through various exercises to attempt to awaken the legacy within ourselves. We invite everyone interested in emerging as a sentinel or guide to invest themselves in these exercises as well. You don’t get to pick which one you get—it’s a genetic legacy, guys, it’s in your blood, decided before you were born—but you can find everything we know about sentinels and guides by looking up the Guardian Initiative online. Everything legitimately from us will contain the GI watermark which you can see here,” Tony pointed to the screen to his right and JARVIS put up the image right on cue.

“Questions?”

-*-

“And he’s going to be alright?” Tony asked, yes  _ again _ .

Morgan the Cheeky rolled her eyes at him. “He has to struggle, or the isolations won’t awaken his sentinel gifts.”

“I don’t see why you can’t tell  _ me _ where your isolating him,” Tony complained.

“Dad.” Morgan shot him a  _ come on _ look.

“Fine,” Tony huffed. He knew why he couldn’t know, because he would monitor Clint to make sure he survived, sentinel gifts be damned… which was rather counterproductive to the entire exercise.

“If you want to be agitated about it, that’s fine. As connected as the two of you are even inactive, it might motivate him to come online more quickly—just don’t make the rest of us suffer for something you said you understood and agreed to. That’s not right.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed with a huff. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep his agitation to himself. “When will Nate be back?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “He already is.”

“That was quick.”

“Quinjet—” Morgan stiffened. “Nate!” She scrambled to her feet and ran. Tony immediately followed.

When they made it to the hangar deck, Nate was hanging on to the Quinjet with metal claws stuck through the paneling. His feet were in the air pointed toward a circle of light glowing gold in the air.

“JARVIS, lock the car!” Tony ordered. The second the elevator stopped, electromagnetic locked sealed the door.

“Dad!” Morgan objected, slamming a fist on to the door before taking a step back to watch the security footage JARVIS projected onto the inside of the elevator car for them.

There were several angles of footage available and they got to watch live as a man wearing an actual facts red came stepped out of the golden light. He was so overly dignified that he came out the other side as ridiculous but nothing about the situation inclined Tony to laugh at him.

Morgan slumped in relief. “It’s Dr. Strange,” she explained. “He’s a part-time Avenger in our time. You haven’t met him yet.”

“So, we’re safe to go?”

“Yes!” Morgan immediately agreed.

“JARVIS.”

The doors opened and Morgan scrambled through to her sentinel. “Nate,” she said gratefully as he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m okay,” Nate said, running his hands up and down Morgan’s arms to warm her. “I’m okay.”

After a few moments, Morgan drew herself back up and glared at this Dr. Strange. “Stephen.”

“You’re fine, obviously,” Stephen Strange frowned at them. “Hawkeye was ridiculous in her demands that I retrieve you.”

“Lila’s always ridiculous,” Nate muttered. “That’s why she’s team leader—her sheer ridiculousness.”

Strange shrugged and nodded like he couldn’t argue with that. “Well, what do you two want? To stay here or go back?”

“Can we visit?” Morgan asked. “If we go back?”

“No,” Dr. Strange shook his head. “The energy to reach this place by myself was extreme. I cannot agree to popping you back and forth without my duties suffering for it. You have to pick. Here or there.”

Morgan and Nate exchanged a look.


	17. Square: What Happens in Vegas, Fandom: NCIS/Olympus Has Fallen, Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Mike Banning

**Title** : In Search   
**Author** : Saydria Wolfe   
**Fandom** : NCIS, Olympus Has Fallen   
**Genre** : Sentinels and Guides are Known AU, Fix-it, Episode Related (Dead Air), Episode Related (Olympus Has Fallen)   
**Relationships** : Tony DiNozzo/Mike Banning, others   
**Warnings** : Mentions of pedophilia, illegal drugs, and terrorism   
**Author’s Notes** : 1.) I blame Angel N Darkness for this mess, and you should too. Or you can thank her, whatever floats your boat. 2.) I shifted the time frames for Olympus and Dead Air around so that they match a little better. Not a huge big deal because the loss of the cover of darkness wouldn’t be a hinderance for Sentinel!Mike Banning but I don’t want anyone thinking I messed something up. This was a deliberate choice.   
**Challenge** : Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: What Happens in Vegas   
**Beta** : PN Ztivokreb   
**Word Count** : 3,553   
**Summary** : When Mike Banning comes online in the middle of the Kang’s attack on the White House, the consequences ripple across the country side in unexpected ways.

"Gibbs!" 

He glanced up to see Director Vance standing on the landing above the bullpen. Vance was glaring at him with enough heat to melt a carrier hull, Gibbs was impressed.

"My office!" the director snapped, and turned on his heel before Gibbs could respond.

It was a bad sign that he had no idea what the director’s obvious temper could be about but that was more than Vance's usual  _ show 'em who's boss _ intensity. His gut sank.

Gibbs grabbed his coffee and followed.

Vance activated the white noise generators the moment Gibbs closed the office door behind him. It wasn't SCIF mode, but alarm bells started going off in his gut, regardless. Something was very wrong.

Gibbs nodded to the director and studied the pair standing in front of Vance's desk.

A bonded pair, if their body language was anything to go by, and somewhat familiar, too. She was definitely the sentinel.

"This is Agent Gibbs," Vance said to the pair. "He is Agent DiNozzo's direct supervisor. Gibbs, the Alpha Primes of the East Coast, Emma and Patrick Sheppard.

…That would be why they were familiar. It was practically required for everyone in law enforcement to be familiar with their local SnG chain of command because Sentinels and Guides popped up everywhere in law enforcement work. It was all part of their mandate to  _ protect the tribe. _

"Something wrong?" Gibbs drawled.

"There is an ongoing empathic event," the sentinel, Emma Sheppard, said shortly. "Thankfully only our community can feel it, but the primes have ordered every unbonded shaman accounted for. Agent DiNozzo is the only one that has not answered his phone."

"Shaman?" Vance asked faintly.

"Yes, shaman," Patrick answered, glaring at Vance.

"Of course, he didn’t answer his phone." Gibbs snorted, as if DiNozzo would compromise the job. "He's undercover."

"Undercover?" Emma pressed.

"He's posing as a home buyer in an upscale neighborhood. Quizzing residents to get their voice prints."

"For what purpose?"

"We're looking for a killer." And then because he knew his usual reticent self would not go over well with an SnG pair, he added, "It might be related to domestic terrorism."

The sentinel's face went white.

"He's not alone in the field," Vance assured them quickly. "He has back up."

"The other two agents on the team," Gibbs concurred.

"Agent Gibbs, I suggest you call Agent DiNozzo's backup  _ immediately _ ."

"Why?" he demanded of the pair. "Whatever problem you're having, it has nothing to do with my case! I don’t care who you are, I won't let you interfere and get people killed!"

The sentinel took an aborted step forward, but her guide put his hand on her shoulder and she stilled.

"I'm sure you are aware of the ongoing attack on the White House," Patrick Sheppard said gently.

Gibbs nodded. The Navy, Marines, National Guard, FBI, even ATF had been mobilized to deal with the threat but NCIS had been cut out of the loop except for individual agents that had been in the area when the attack had commenced. It was their job to support local police and maintain the peace.

At least partially because too many bodies in one place would be counterproductive and only increase the already massive body count, no matter how much in stuck in his craw.

"We have a man alive inside,” the male Sheppard explained. “The danger of the attack forced him online as a sentinel. The ongoing empathic event is a shaman-level guide keeping him on his feet and working to save the President. It is our  _ duty _ as their extended pride to guard this guide and bring him closer to his sentinel to reduce the empathic strain he is under.

"Is your case more important than the life of the leader of the Tribe and a possible nuclear war with Korea, Agent Gibbs?"

No. No, it wasn't. Gibbs sighed. "I'll call my agents."

Figuring McGee was the one most likely to have his phone in hand, he called the team geek.

"McGee," the younger man answered.

"Gibbs," he returned. "Status and location of Agent DiNozzo."

There was silence on the other end. And then a stammering, "Well...uh, you see...boss... um, that is. We don't know."

Emma Sheppard hissed in fury.

Gibbs blinked several times trying to process that. Then he pulled the phone from his ear and put it on speaker since Emma Sheppard was clearly listening in anyway.

"Say that again, McGee."

"Well, Boss, we don't...know...the status and location of Tony. I mean, Agent DiNozzo."

"And why don't you know, McGee," he asked very carefully.

"We—that is, Ziva and I, um. We. We got tired of listening to him, and we shut it off."

"You've been out there three hours," he said, almost like he thought McGee and Ziva’s response was reasonable. "How long were you listening for?"

"We don't...know."

"Because you were listening for so long?"

"Honestly, Boss, we turned it off after he left the car and crossed the street," McGee confessed in a rush. "I am so sorry."

"I sent him out there  _ to talk _ and after less than five minutes, you got tired of doing your job which was listening to him do his job. Do I have that right, Agent McGee?"

"Yes, sir—uh! Boss."

"Okay, McGee," Gibbs said gently because of how much he wanted to throttle the younger man. "You stay where you are and keep doing what you’re doing. Both of you. Do not make me come looking for you." And Gibbs hung up.

"Where?" Emma Sheppard demanded.

"Royal Woods," Gibbs told her through grit teeth. His team. His  _ fucking _ team!

"John," Emma said conversationally and despite the white noise generators she tipped her head when she clearly got an answer. "Call your pride and have Peter call ours. We have a guide hunt to do."

"This Ziva," Patrick Sheppard looked him straight in the eye. "That wouldn't be Ziva David, would it?"

"It would," Gibbs confirmed.

"Did Tony not file a complaint with you about her?"

"He did." Gibbs sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Of all the times to be wrong. "He said she was feeling hostile and deceptive and asked permission to do an active scan of her. I told him no and talked to her... She said he was just being a sore loser in that competition they are always in."

"Tony? A sore loser?" Patrick Sheppard asked in shock. "Anthony DiNozzo?"

Gibbs nodded.

" _ Since when? _ " Emma Sheppard demanded.

And she had a point.  _ Sportsmanship _ might as well have been Tony’s middle name. He’d never held a loss against anyone that Gibbs could recall. Not even the loss of his professional sports career against the man that broke his leg. Gibbs wondered when he had forgotten that.

Patrick waved off Gibbs’ response and turned to Vance. "Did you or did you not receive a formal complaint from Guide DiNozzo about Ziva David?"

"I did," Vance acknowledged. "But I assumed he had simply failed to get her to sleep with him and decided to ignore it."

"You decided that a Pride Certified Complaint from a Shaman was—what, retaliation for a denial of sexual favors?" Patrick asked and Gibbs felt just as horrified as the man looked.

"He has a reputation for it," Vance defended himself.

"With  _ who? _ " Gibbs demanded. He had never heard thicker horseshit in his  _ life _ .

"You realize that a Pride Certified Complaint means he opened his mind to an alpha guide that he has never met before and allowed that stranger to search his mind and verify his complaint had merit and was without bias?" Patrick asked. "And that it is a federal felony to ignore one? Especially from a  _ shaman _ ?"

"I didn't know he was a shaman at the time," Vance tried to defend.

"Of course, you didn't!" Gibbs shouted, losing his cool. "Shamans are kept secret until they are bonded! Or did you forget that there are people out there that  _ sell them _ ?"

"This is not the point," Emma Sheppard cut him and Vance off. "We need to find Agent DiNozzo three hours ago.

"Director Vance, I hope you enjoyed your career—because it is  _ over _ ."

Emma Sheppard left the office with that and Gibbs followed her out. He was so fucking furious. And he couldn't stay behind while they went to find his agent. If his blindness had killed Tony, it was his duty to look his corpse in the face.

And he just might have a bullet for the two that put Tony in the ground.

-*-

The prides gathered in the parking lot of a grocery store two miles from the entrance of Royal Woods.

None of them blinked an eye when he joined the supply line to receive his two sets of gloves and bulletproof vest with SnG emblazoned in white on the back.

He wasn't an active sentinel, would never be now, as old as he was. His inner latent sentinel had retreated with the deaths of Shannon and Kelly and he'd always been somewhat relieved by that. He hadn't come online with his wife—for the defense of his wife and child—so some part of him felt that he didn't deserve to come online. He had isolated himself for his community and any chance of healing his inner sentinel and never regretted it.

Still, he was somewhat at a loss as to what he was supposed to do as a mundane on a Guide Hunt.

"For those of you who haven't done this before, we will be breaking into four teams. Emma and I will lead Alpha Team. John and Rodney will lead Beta Team. David and Casey will lead Charlie Team. Steve and Sophie will lead Delta Team.

"Peter and Ronon will be acting as our communication hub."

Gibbs glanced at the third Sheppard son. He was looking pale and tired. Last Gibbs knew, he had developed the guide version of narcolepsy, but no one would ever give out much information about it. He had to wonder what the enormous, very dangerous looking sentinel sticking close to the young guide's side had to do with that.

"Call out or text them when you have cleared an area. They will coordinate us as necessary.

"When we find Agent DiNozzo, if he is unconscious or otherwise unable to respond you  _ will not touch him _ unless his life is in immediate danger. Only Rodney and myself are authorized to touch Agent DiNozzo but if circumstances require that you touch him, you will put on both sets of gloves before you do. Nitrile, then neoprene. Blue, then green.

"Questions?" Guide Sheppard asked.

There were none.

"For those of you unfamiliar with Tony DiNozzo's scent," Emma Sheppard said, holding up an 8x10 glossy of Tony's face. "He is the only son of my little sister. My  _ identical twin _ . He will smell very much like one of my sons born to a different father."

That...gave Gibbs pause. He knew Tony knew the Sheppards, but he had assumed they were his alphas, not his aunt and uncle.

"You have your assignments. Gibbs, you're with me. Let's go, people."

They piled into several large SUVs and one guide green ambulance and drove to Royal Woods.

The SUVs broke off in different directions, heading to their assigned sectors, as they entered the housing development.

"We find Tony, then we deal with your assholes," Emma told him from behind the wheel.

Gibbs utterly agreed with those priorities, so he just nodded.

They parked almost exactly where the 'A' had been marked on the map Peter Sheppard had passed around and exited the vehicle.

Emma Sheppard took a deep breath. "He's nearby."

"He's the source of the event," Patrick confirmed in turn and the bonded pair shared a look.

"Teldy, take the team house to house," Emma ordered. "Cassidy, you're with us."

"Roger that," both lady sentinels agreed, and the group split up.

Emma held out her hand and Patrick took it. It was a rather subtle grounding ritual, in Gibbs' opinion. The sentinel set her feet a shoulder's width apart and closed her eyes.

She turned slowly—homing in on Tony's scent, Gibbs assumed. Eventually she was facing the same direction as her guide and husband.

The two glanced at each other, nodded, and took off.

Gibbs and Paula Cassidy and guide—he hadn't been introduced—followed.

It took some doing, finding the right house. The fences were too tall to go over and they had to go around several times, to the sentinels' clear frustration.

They left Section A altogether, skirted the edge of Section C, and finally came to a house in Section D, picking up Commander McGarrett and the youngest Sheppard, Sophie, as they stopped at a house.

While the rest of the team stared in concern at the house, Gibbs plowed forward to knock on the door.

It was answered quickly by a woman wearing a bright blue bikini and very little else. "Can I help you?" She smiled flirtatiously and batted her eyes at him.

"My name is Jethro Gibbs. I’m here with the local pride, responding to concerns about a guide in distress."

The woman slumped. "About fucking time you got here," she said in a completely different, nearly grave tone of voice.

When she stepped back, he noted the shotgun in the hand he had kept hidden being the door. "Well?" she demanded. "Get in here."

Gibbs got in there. He was followed by the Sheppards, though he noted that Sophie was tapping away on her phone.

"I'm Agent Charlotte Dennison, " the woman in the house introduced herself, "ATF."

"Undercover?" Gibbs asked, surprised.

Dennison rolled her eyes. "There is something rotten in this neighborhood," she confirmed.

"Domestic terrorists are like that," he agreed.

She eyed him. "Strange that it was noticed by even...?"

"NCIS," he answered before she had to fish any further. They made it around her couch and saw Tony laying on the floor with his eyes closed.

She had sheltered him, Gibbs noted. Placing Tony on the floor between the couch and the overturned coffee table. She'd even placed a blanket over Tony to obscure him or to emotionally comfort him, Gibbs couldn't be sure, but he  _ liked _ competent people and Dennison clearly was.

"How did he get here?" Emma Sheppard asked.

Dennison looked between Gibbs and Sentinel Sheppard, clearly decided who was in charge, and focused on the prime. “He came to my location earlier this morning. We flirted a bit and then he left. An hour later, he returned looking…flustered. I signaled my backup and invited him inside. I had barely closed the door when he staggered against the wall calling for a sentinel. I’m only a latent sensitive so I know he wasn’t calling out to me. I helped him over to the couch, but he was out of it before I even got him there.

“I closed the curtains, hid him as best I could, and started standing guard. I knew someone would come for him eventually.”

“We’re here now,” Emma assured the woman and turned to her daughter.

“John and Rodney are incoming. ETA four minutes. Peter and Ronon will get here first since they are in a vehicle,” Sophie told them. “Derek and Emily have found a pedophile ring and are tearing it to bits with the Kusanagis’ help. David and Cassie are handling clean up and seeing the ones that survive arrested. We also found a bomb in a freezer that I assume is related to the domestic terrorism thing and holy gods are there coke and guns in this neighborhood.”

“That’s what happens when Sentinels and Guides are deliberately kept out of a neighborhood.” Emma Sheppard pinched her nose. “ATF, I assume you want to take the bomb issue?”

“It’s not what I’m here for but it would be within my jurisdiction,” Dennison agreed. “So are the coke and guns. I’m part of a joint task force with the DEA.”

Dennison paused. “And I agree, it’s all a result of the lack of SnG presence in the neighborhood. Perhaps the terrorism is as well.”

“Probably,” Gibbs agreed. He knew it was a thing that happened, developers building subdivisions in a way to keep Sentinels out due to discomfort, but he hadn’t thought it could happen as close to DC as they were. “I’d like to call in another team from NCIS,” Gibbs told Dennison. “My team is out of commission. But there is a clear and present danger to at least the Navy, and we have jurisdiction, too.”

“As long as they can play well with others.” Dennison shrugged.

Balboa had a reputation for being a team player, so Gibbs just nodded. “I’ll make the call.”

“We’re going to arrest your idiot,” Emma Sheppard told him. “They are a threat to the Pride and at the very least derelict in their duty as agents but considering Tony’s concerns, it might be time to call the Inspector General.”

Gibbs initially balked at the very thought, but he forced that down and nodded. Clearly there were problems with his team he couldn’t see and couldn’t deal with. He owed it to Tony to step back and let someone else take a good long look at the issue.

-*-

Hours later, Gibbs was sitting on the back steps of the open SnG ambulance, watching the sun set in a sea of blood over the White House.

It had been a long, stressful day but he was comfortable in a way he had never expected. Being around an active pride made him feel safe in a way he had never experienced, and none of the SnGs had acted put off with him or his latent/dormant status.

“He’s waking up,” the oldest Sheppard son’s guide, Dr. Rodney McKay, announced and Gibbs turned in time to see approximately nothing, but he heard Tony groan heartily.

“How are you feeling, Tony?” Patrick Sheppard asked, leaning over his nephew.

“Like I got run over by a dump truck and then chased by a dementor,” Tony answered.

“Better than expected, then,” Patrick said with an almost sadistic cheer as he and Dr. McKay helped Tony sit up.

“Hey, Gibbs,” Tony greeted. “We get ‘em?”

“We did, Tony.” Gibbs had to swallow hard. “Thanks to the pride.”

“It’s what we do,” Tony said flippantly as he scooted to the end of the stretcher. “Where’s…?”

There was a snarl and a hand pulled Gibbs back away from the entrance to the truck. He followed the arm up to see the truly big one, Ronon Dex, keeping him out of the way as a very ragged looking Mike Banning stood in his previous place, staring up at Tony like he’d just seen god.

“Hey, Mike,” Tony greeted with a small smile. When Tony opened his arms, Banning collapsed into him with a relieved huff. “I guess what happens in Vegas doesn’t actually stay in Vegas.”

Emma turned to look at her nephew in disbelief. “What?”

“That’s the guy?” Peter Sheppard asked. “The one that rocked your world when—”

“We don’t need details, gentlemen,” Patrick Sheppard interrupted.

“Maybe a few,” Emma Sheppard corrected, leveling a significant look at her husband.

“You remember? Five years ago?” Tony started, gently rubbing his sentinel’s back.

“When my eldest son and his guide ran away to Vegas rather than go through with the big society wedding they promised me?” Emma Sheppard finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, then,” Tony agreed.

“Regret nothing,” McKay interjected. “Except, perhaps, the quality of Spock’s costume when he officiated for us.”

Emma rolled her eyes and Gibbs had to press his lips together to keep from smiling.

“After…that, I went down to the hotel lobby for a drink,” Tony continued, ignoring his cousin in-bond. “I found a man there I knew I had to have and…we had some fun.”

“You knew he was yours?” Patrick Sheppard asked. “Even as a latent?”

“Yes,” Banning answered without removing his face from the base of Tony’s neck. “I had just joined the Presidential detail which requires SnG testing. I’d never allowed it before and my fiancé called everything off when it came out that I was a latent sentinel. I was in the bar, looking for something to take my mind off of it, and in he walked.” Banning pulled back enough to look into Tony’s eyes. “I had to have him. Lucky for me, he agreed.”

Tony chuckled, a deep throaty sound, and pressed his lips to his sentinel’s temple. “Don’t think you’re getting me again without a shower. And stitches. I’m not even a sentinel and I can smell your blood.”

“It was hard,” Banning admitted, something Gibbs would have never expected.

“Well, get up here,” Tony pulled away from Banning. “We have an iso suite at the closest SnG Center with our names on it.”

“You have the bonding house on the Sheppard property with your name on it,” Emma Sheppard corrected. “Where you will both receive medical treatment  _ immediately _ .”

Tony groaned. “Not the Rut Hut!”

“Tony!” his aunt chided.

“Aren’t Peter and Ronon still using it?” Tony whined.

“Guide.”

Tony turned to Banning immediately and saw something that put the softest look Gibbs had ever seen on his Senior Field Agent’s face. “Sentinel.

“Alright, aunt, get us to the Rut Hut!”


End file.
